Tanis walked toward the wall to pick up Kishpa. Before he got there, though, the mage calmly stood up on his own. The half-elf stopped, wary.
"Wise move," Kishpa snarled. "My magic protected me from your attack. But what is going to protect you from mine?"
"Magicl" protested Flint loudly, jumping to his feet, accidentally knocking the table askew. "Unfair! Nobody said anything about magic."
Tanis eased his way to the left, edging closer to an overturned chair while Kishpa strode toward the half- elf. When Kishpa was right in front of him, Tanis picked up one of the chair's upturned legs and smashed it over the mage's head. It shattered into a dozen pieces. But Kishpa just stood there, giving Tanis a malevolent smile.
The innkeeper scribbled again on the tally sheet. Flint handed him the half-full tankard, which the man took without a word.
Flint watched as Kishpa and Tanis faced off again. • "Where's Brandella?" the mage demanded.
Tanis felt a curious satisfaction. "I don't know. You've missed her."
The half-elf didn't see the mage's hands move. Nobody saw them. Nonetheless, Tanis was struck in the eye by a punch that staggered him. An unseen fist hit him in the cheekbone, nearly knocking him senseless and snapping his head to one side so hard that he spun halfway around. A blow to the stomach left him on his knees. In all of this, Kishpa never moved. Nor did he continue the pummeling once Tanis was down. He merely took a deep breath as though he had labored hard and then quietly stood over the fallen half-elf.
"Reorx's beard!" Flint thundered and charged at Kishpa, butting his head into the mage's back. Caught off-guard, Kishpa fell forward, landing on top of Tanis.
"I wish I had my battle-axe!" the dwarf roared.
He was hardly helpless, though, without his favorite weapon; as Tanis sat up, Hint kneed Kishpa in the small of the back, eliciting a groan from the mage. 'That will teach you to pick on folks with your magic!" the dwarf declared. Then he threw a punch meant to strike the side of the mage's head. He missed, hitting Tanis in the chest, instead.
"Oh. Sorry," said the dwarf as Tanis fell backward.
Meanwhile, Kishpa muttered several words under his breath, words that neither Tanis nor Hint had ever heard before. Without warning, Hint was lifted off the mage's back as if he were a puppet on a set of strings. He hovered in the air near the ceiling.
"Hey, you, get me down from here!" insisted the dwarf.
The innkeeper shrugged thin shoulders. "Don't know how."
"I meant him!" Hint said with exasperation, flailing his arms and legs. The dwarf pointed at the mage. "Let me down, and fight fair!"
"Is two against one 'fair'?" Kishpa asked calmly, blue eyes mild.
'The boy was already down," Hint countered. "It was one against one when I hit you." He aimed an unsuccessful kick at the mage's head.
Tanis began another attempt to get to his feet. The mage took a handful of the half-elf's tunic with one hand, seemingly holding him steady in order to strike him with the other.
"Kishpa!" a new voice sang from the doorway. "Don't!"
The mage twisted to face the door. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a huge grin lit his face. He let go of Tanis and ran to his Brandella. When he did so, Tanis stayed on his feet, but Hint suddenly fell to the floor, hitting the wooden planks with a thud.
'Thanks," the dwarf muttered under his breath, pulling splinters out of his beard.
"I've been looking all over for you," Kishpa declared, taking Brandella into his arms. Scowarr peeked around from behind the woman and skittered into the room, staying out of the mage's sight.
Meanwhile, Brandella fought free of Kishpa. The mage's expression instantly turned somber. "What's wrong?" he asked, following her into the Inn.
She pushed Kishpa aside and hurried to Tanis, studying his bruised face with a gentle hand. "Why did you do this?" she demanded of the mage.
"Because he deserved it," Kishpa answered defiantly. "I could have killed him, but I didn't. After all, he has a journey to make. And," he added with infinite sadness, "so do you."
Her hand fell from Tanis's jaw. Curly hair framed a suddenly joyful face. "Kishpa… you haven't come to stop us?"
He shook his head. She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the neck, the cheek, and then the lips. Tanis, teetering on weak legs, turned away and sank into a chair.
"I tried to tell you when that gag was in my mouth," Kishpa explained, "but none of you would take it out and listen to me. What you said to me… made sense. I believe you. I've been trying to catch up to you to tell you."
'Then why'd you fight me?" Tanis demanded.
"You started it," the mage grumbled.
"Men!" exhorted Brandella. Then she kissed Kishpa again and straightened his robes. "It was all for nothing," she said pensively. "There will be no good-byes between us because we can't leave. It seems-"
"You're wrong," he said gently. "You can go. At least you can if my magic is strong enough."
Tanis heard the wizard and blinked several times, trying to remember what Clotnik had told him so long ago. He'd said it was Kishpa who would bring them back to the present. But he hadn't said which Kishpa. Tanis laughed harshly All along, he had been trying to get the wrong Kishpa to help them while running away from the right one! "I'm sorry about Mertwig," Brandella said tenderly, stroking her lover's face. The mage lowered his head. "That's the other reason I've come to help," he said. "I was wrong about Mertwig, and he died. I can't take the risk of doing that to you, too." Brandella hugged him. "I wish I knew what was going on," said Flint. "This kind of thing happens all the time in the innkeeper business," Hey, You confided to the dwarf. "You learn to ignore it." He passed Hint another ale. With the help of Scowarr, Tanis hobbled over to where Kishpa and Brandella were lost in each others' arms. He cleared his throat to get their attention, and then said, "It would be better not to wait. If you can free us from the ancient Kishpa's memory, you should do it soon." The mage reluctantly pulled away from Brandella and nodded. "I don't know if my magic will work. I've rethought all of my spells, trying to find a new combination of conjurings that will have the desired effect. I don't know if I can do it." "But you can try," countered Tanis. "And so I shall. But I would like a moment alone with Brandella first." Tanis limped toward the dwarf and innkeeper near the bar. Hint was appraising the half-elf with an approving eye. "You did well," Hint said. "A rule of thumb, though." He leaned closely. Tanis winced at the odor of stale ale on the dwarf's breath. "Don't ever fight wizards." Tanis looked Hint straight in his slightly bloodshot eyes. "Then why did you jump in to help me?" Hint shrugged. "You looked like you could use a hand. Who are you, anyway?" "His name is Tanis," said Scowarr, who had quietly joined the trio. "But he is rarely funny." "And you are?" the dwarf asked Little Shoulders. 'Tell me something amusing." Scowarr sat down next to Hint and began quietly telling him a story…
As Scowarr spoke in low tones, Tanis drifted toward Brandella and Kishpa. The mage saw him coming and regretfully led the woman to the doorway of the Inn of the Last Home. Tanis joined her there, taking her hand.
Kishpa kissed her one last time. And then he surprised Tanis by saying, "Half-Elven, there is no one I would entrust her with but you. I thank you for coming to get her. I know you risked not only your life but your world to do this thing for me. Don't think it escapes me."
Tanis touched Kishpa's arm. "Have a good life between now and then."
Kishpa put his hand over Tanis's but said nothing.
The mage stepped back, gave Brandella a last, loving look, and then closed his eyes. Kishpa's lips began to move. At first, Tanis didn't hear him say anything. Soon, though, he could make out the faint sound of odd words spoken in a peculiar rhythm. The chanting became louder.
At that moment, Tanis also heard the sound of Hint roaring with laughter. Scowarr had found a willing audience.
Kishpa's chanting grew even louder.
Tanis felt the pull of the magic. Soon his mind swirled with images. He
saw the burnt glade next to the pond. He saw ashes floating in the water. He heard the ragged breathing of the ancient Kishpa. But it was a blur- unreal, untouchable, yet somehow tangible. He and Brandella floated there, looking down from on high as if they were seeing a picture in a cloud that kept changing with the wind.
They were getting closer. He could smell the aftermath of the fire. He could even feel the heat of the sun. Soon the ground below seemed almost real enough to step down upon.
Suddenly, he noticed a change. Something that he had noted was no longer there. Then he realized: The breathing had stopped. The ground beneath his feet vanished. The glade disappeared. The sights, the smells, all were no more. Everything was gone except for an impenetrable darkness and the familiar sound of a beating heart. Except it was beating too slowly, irregularly. Tanis was still holding Brandella's hand, but he could not see her in the blackness.
Kishpa, ancient in years and ravaged by fire, was losing his final battle.
Although neither could hear the other, Tanis and Brandella called out to Kishpa, urging him, begging him, to fight death just a little longer, to live, to bring them home.
Their cries fell on ears that could no longer hear.
Kishpa was dead.
The beating heart stilled.
Tanis realized that they might exist in this netherworld forever, sailing on a sea of black in a mind that no longer could think or feel.
The darkness loomed empty, bleak, and seemingly never-ending… until they saw a spot of light far in the distance. It was tiny but bright. And it was getting ever closer. Was it a sun? A moon? A fire that would consume them? All Tanis knew was that they were hurtling straight toward it.
29
Life After Death
The bright light was not a star a moon, or a fire. It was merely an opening at the end of an almost infinite corridor, much like the bright light one sees when looking at the opening of a mine from deep inside the shaft. When Tanis and Brandella finally came tumbling out of the darkness, they were dumped onto a flower bed awash with vivid colors. Above them stood trees with bright purple leaves. Blinded by the light, neither could see anything but flashes of brilliant color for several minutes. As they groped about the flower bed, Tanis called out, "Are you all right7 Are you hurt?"
Brandella's voice floated shakily to him through the blotches of red, orange, purple, and magenta. "Nothing broken. What about you7"
He made another attempt to focus on what appeared to be a chrysanthemum-although he'd never seen one in that particular shade of chartreuse. "Fine. I'm fine. At least I think so."
"I wonder where we are," Brandella said, rubbing her eyes.
"You're in my garden!" boomed an angry male voice. "And you're ruining it!"
Tanis tried to crawl toward the voice, squashing a splotch of pink under one knee.
The voice grew more strident. "Don't move! You're making it worse. Wait until your eyes adjust."
They did as they were instructed. As they sat, though, Tanis asked, "Other than your garden, what is this place?"
There was a pause. "You don't know?"
Tanis shook his head.
A short, baritone chuckle broke the silence. "Why, this place is Death. Everyone who comes here knows that."
Flower gardens in Death? Tanis wondered. A white and black tulip slowly came into focus before him, then drifted out again.
"That can't be," explained Brandella. "We're not dead. At least I don't think we are. Are we dead, Tanis?"
Tanis studied the tulip. When it came back into focus again, it was lavender and black. He shook his head, hoping to clear it, and a cloud of unfocused multicolored snow drifted down past his eyes. "I have no idea. I certainly hope not."
Their eyes slowly stopped tearing, and they were able to see their surroundings. They saw the flowers and the trees. And they saw the man who glared at them. He was a middle-aged human of stature, with a full beard, elegantly sweeping mustache, and sinewy arms. He obviously had been a well-built, powerful man in his youth. He was dressed simply, in loose white pants and a flowing, white shirt.
Dozens of petals clung to Brandella's mane of curly hair. She looked at Tanis and giggled, and Tanis knew his own red-brown locks were similarly adorned.
"Ah, you two can see now?" the man demanded. "Then please leave my garden."
They gingerly stepped out of the flowers. The man stood half a head taller than Tanis. Brandella made an attempt to assuage the man's irritation.
"I've never seen flowers like that," she said. "They're beautiful." She knelt to smell a blossoming yellow and green flower with splotches of pink and red on its petals. The man, seemingly mollified, smiled indulgently down on her.
'They're from the Age of Dreams," the man said, hands on his hips. "They don't grow on Krynn anymore. The same is true of the trees."
She sniffed at the blossom, and a look of surprise crossed her face. "It has no scent," she said, perplexed, rocking back on her heels.
'That's the shame of it," admitted their guide. 'They look good, but they're dead. Like everything else here."
"Everything except us," corrected Brandella in a hopeful voice.
Hashing them an odd look, the gardener turned and said, as he walked away, "If that's so, then youH regret it soon enough."
"Why?" asked Tanis, following the broad, white- shirted back along a red-tiled path that clashed with the profusion of purples and pinks in the vegetation.
"Why, youH starve," said the man over his shoulder in a matter-of-fact voice. "There's nothing to eat here. Nothing. It's all dead: the animals, the fruits, even the trees. All dead. Just like you will be if you don't get out of here."
They hurried after the gardener until they found themselves at the foot of a small hill nearly covered with white trees, bushes, and flowers. There were a few dark spots but not very many.
"If this is Death, how do we leave it?" Tanis questioned. "Is there a way?"
The man ignored Tanis and pointed to the hill of white. 'That's mine," he said proudly. "I wish it were smaller and whiter but," he humbly added, "it was the best I could do when I was alive."
"That's very nice," the half-elf said perfunctorily, sweeping more petals off his shoulders, "but how do we get out of this place? You've got to help us!"
The man calmly changed direction and advanced on Tanis. He didn't seem threatening in the least, so Tanis didn't deign to protect himself. He should have. Like a bolt of lightning, the man's hand shot across and his fingers encircled Tanis's throat.
He squeezed.
Tanis tried to pry his attacker's bony fingers away from his wind pipe, but the grip was like that of death itself. Blue spots began to dance before the half-elf's eyes.
'Tanis!" Brandella cried. "I… can't move." She stood a few feet away, frozen in the act of reaching to help him.
The half-elf was on the verge of passing out when the man let go of him. Tanis staggered and fell to the smooth tile path, gasping for air. Tanis sensed, rather than saw, Brandella's body relax from its rigid stance, and he looked up at the gardener, who enunciated angrily, "My hill is more than 'very nice.' Look, you, at the hills and mountains all around. What do you see?"
Tanis looked, but he could not speak. It was Brandella who answered. "Hundreds, maybe thousands, of tall, dark mountains in every direction," she said tentatively.
"Very good," the man said, face pallid and eyes terrible. Tanis realized how formidable he must have been in life. The man's lips were thin and tight with anger. Nearby, in vivid contrast to the gardener's mood, pink petals drifted from a small bush to the ground.
"Very good," the man said again, gesturing at the hills. "And my mountain is small and white. Those other peaks there, and there, and there"-and he stressed each word with a stab of a bony finger-"are the lies and terrible crimes of my neighbors. My hill represents my failings when 1 lived on Krynn. I'm not perfect. I had my faults."
Tanis felt his eyes narrow. "Pride? Maybe a bad temper?" he r
asped from his seat on the path.
The gardener shot Tanis a surprised look. Reluctant respect grew in his eyes, and the hint of a smile crinkled the edges of his mouth.
"Good guesses," replied the man, who continued blandly. "As for your demand that I 'have' to help you leave Death, let me tell you that your fate is of no matter to me. Besides, everyone comes here eventually."
Brandella stepped carefully before the man. "With all due respect," she said, obviously hoping not to anger the' garden's caretaker, "everyone may come here, but some may come before their time. I don't mean that they die young, but that they don't belong here at all. Not yet. And if that is so, there must be a way to go back. Could you not tell us how we might return?"
The man watched the weaver fixedly. "Nicely said," he finally offered, bowing with a flair that matched his white suit. "Spoken with respect and grace. Perhaps I shall tell you what I know, after all."
"You're very kind," Brandella said sweetly, mustering all of her considerable charm. By the gods, she's going to curtsy, Tanis thought, still seated, and started to speak, but the woman silenced him with a look. She remained standing, however.
The man pointed toward the horizon at the tallest of the forbidding mountains. "It is said that on the other side of Fistandantilus's mountain there lies a portal that leads back to Life. Of course, to my knowledge, no one has ever scaled the wizard's monument to evil. Not even Fistandantilus himself. He lives on this side of it, always in its shadow, never seeing the light of day."
"If you know that that is the way back to Life," Tanis recklessly questioned, "why don't you attempt to go back yourself?"
Their guide gave him a long, hard look. "Half-elf, your human side occasionally oversteps the elven," he commented. Tanis swallowed nervously but kept his expression blank. He started to rise, in case the man attacked him again.
"I lived my life," the man finally answered. "I lived it well. There is little more I could do except grow older and more doddering. I am also told by those who have come after me that I left behind something of a reputation. Why spoil it? Besides, I have my flowers here-and the peace, usually," he added with a pointed look at Tanis, "to tend to them. Is that answer enough for you, my inquisitive young despoiler of gardens?"
Tanis the shadow years (d2-3) Page 17