Tanis the shadow years p2-3

by Barbara Siegel

  "Oh!" said Clotnik, alarmed. He scrambled to his feet, ready to run but apparently uncertain which direction was best. Ignoring the panicky dwarf, the half-elf stood and walked calmly to the edge of the wood.

  Clotnik dogged his steps. "Elves have such good vision. Do you see anything?"

  "I'm not sure…" Tanis replied slowly. "The sky beyond those hills to the north seems a little brighter, but the twilight can fool the eyes. We'll know better when the sun goes down."

  The juggler alternately wrung his hands and tugged at his brown beard. Around them, the breeze began to pick up. When he spoke, his voice was pitched half an octave higher than normal. "You don't think the fire is behind us, do you7 I mean, the forest isn't burning, is it?"

  Tanis hesitated, still gazing into the trees and wishing he could hasten nightfall. "I don't think so," he answered slowly. "The wind is blowing from the north, and there's the smell of cinders on it." At that moment, the wind briefly shifted and Tanis lost the scent, causing him a moment's doubt. "Maybe it's nothing," he added, unconvinced.

  They waited and watched the northern sky. The twilight slowly faded, bringing darkness everywhere- except to the north. To their horror, the sky before their eyes danced with an ever-brightening light. They could see no flames, but there was no doubt that behind the hills, a great grass fire blazed. And if the wind continued to blow in their direction, the fire certainly would overtake them.

  Clotnik's fidgeting had increased; seemingly unaware of his actions, he pulled small tufts from his brown beard. "We've got to runl" he blurted.

  But Tanis shook his head and stopped the dwarf from edging away with a curt wave of one hand. "Impossible," the half-elf replied. "You can't outrun a grass fire. Besides, it could be miles wide. We'd never outflank it. Our best chance is right here; we've got the lake to protect us."

  "We could go back the way we came. The fire wouldn't burn through the woods as fast as it will sweep down the meadows."

  'That's true," conceded Tanis. "Then let's go I" "No."

  The small dwarven body nearly vibrated with frustration. "Why not?" he demanded.

  Tanis, sympathizing with his companion's fear, tried to keep his voice soothing. 'This wood is small. We came through meadows to get here. This is like an island of trees, and we could get trapped in an inferno. No, this is the safest place to make our stand." The half-elf smiled reassuringly as the dwarf made a visible attempt to control his nerves, shoving his fists deep into the pockets of his dark brown trousers and acting as though witnessing killer grass fires were as everyday an event as juggling for travelers in far-flung inns.

  "What do we do?" asked Clotnik.

  "There's a fallen tree back by the edge of the lake," Tanis recalled. "Let's shove it into the water. At least we'll have something to hold on to."

  Clotnik began to turn and run, but Tanis grabbed him by the edge of his green tunic, "fill the water pouches. When this is over, the lake may be full of soot and ash."

  The juggler nodded and hurried toward the lake.

  Tanis's elven vision allowed him to see well in the darkness, and he busied himself with digging a shallow hole in the ground, where he tossed their packs and the carefully crafted silver-inlaid broadsword that Flint had forged and given him as a gift during their last night at the Inn of the Last Home. The broadsword reminded him vividly of the differences between the two dwarves- irascible old Flint Fireforge, tough and true as the metal he forged, and the excitable Clotnik, as changeable as the whirling designs he created with his juggling balls. Of course, a difference of nearly a century in their ages could account for some of that, Tanis thought.

  No more than six or seven minutes had passed while Tanis buried everything, yet in that short time, the sky had gone vermilion and smoke had begun to choke the air. Tanis glanced at the closest hill to the north and saw the blaze sweep over its crest. Plants exploded into red, orange, and yellow from the heat of the blaze. Small animals dashed, panic-stricken, from the grasslands to the lake. The inferno was moving fast in the wind, gobbling up the tall grass in the meadow with insatiable hunger.

  "Quick!" ordered Tanis. "Help me push that log into the water!"

  "Where is it?" cried Clotnik in a panic. He suddenly broke into a coughing fit from the smoke. "I can't see it!" he finally managed to sputter.

  Acrid smoke and ash flew in clouds through the air. Fortunately, Tanis's elvensight allowed him to see the warm red glow cast by every living thing, although the aura that outlined Clotnik's stocky body blended increasingly with the growing heat. The half-elf hurried to his companion, who stood at the edge of the lake. Tanis ripped a piece of cloth from his tunic, dipped it into the water, then held it over Clotnik's mouth and nose.

  'Tie it around your face," he called over the roar of the encroaching fire. "It'll help you breathe."

  Clotnik tied the wet cloth over his face while Tanis created his own mask from another piece of cloth. Then Tanis led the juggler to the nearby log, and they put their shoulders to the heavy fallen tree and heaved. It didn't move.

  "AgainI" Tanis commanded. They threw their shoulders against it. Nothing. Tanis turned to look behind him. The fire was halfway down the hill.

  "Push or die!" shouted Tanis. They pushed. With a loud sucking noise, the log came free of the mud at the lake's edge.

  'It's moving!" Clotnik cried.

  "Keep pushing!"

  They planted their feet as best they could in the slippery muck and shoved one more time. The log suddenly swung free and eased into the water, rolled several times, and then floated slowly out toward the center of the lake. Clotnik fell to his hands and knees, his lumpy face pale with exhaustion under the dirt and ash.

  "Catch your breath," Tanis said-somewhat needlessly, he realized; Clotnik could do little else but gulp for air. "Well need long, sturdy sticks to push away any burning debris that falls near us. I'll find them. You wait here."

  The half-elf searched the ground nearby, doing his best to ignore the flames rushing down the hill toward the woods, until a terrible cry reached his ears. His head shot up, and he squinted into the bright, leaping flames that stretched from east to west along the northern sky as far as he could see. At first he saw nothing except a blaze of bright yellow and red. Then a shadow, standing out from the background scarlet, leaped across his line of vision. Tanis shielded his eyes from the blinding light and the heavy smoke that was sweeping in ahead of the flames. The shadow was a figure, and if was moving. But was it a man? Instinctively, without hesitation, Tanis took long strides away from the safety of the lake, toward the edge of the woods, hoping for a better look.

  "Where are you going?" demanded Clotnik.

  "I think someone's out there."

  "Oh, no!" The horror in the dwarf's tone outpaced any panic the little man had shown until now. To Tanis's surprise, the juggler raced to join him. The half-elf reacted with a panic of his own. What if the man out there was the one who had known his father? By this time, the front edge of the grass fire was no more than a hundred yards from the tree line.

  "Help…" came a ragged cry.

  "Over there! To the right!" Clotnik shrieked. "Did you hear it?"

  Tanis didn't bother answering. He saw the movement, captured the image of a man's silhouette against the nearly blinding flames, and ran as fast as he could toward the conflagration. The roar of the fire and the choking wind that swept before it were nearly as overwhelming as the blistering heat. Still, Tanis fought his way forward. Someone was running toward him; a figure in a long robe stumbled just barely ahead of the leaping flames of the grass fire. "This way!" shouted Tanis, waving his arms. The man looked up; fire had scorched the rear hem of his dark robe. The man and the half-elf were no more than ten yards apart when the man held out his arms, called out something unintelligible, and collapsed in a heap. His robe smoldered; the fire raced to consume him.

  Tanis was faster.

  He practically vaulted the last ten yards and scooped the man into his a
rms. The leading edge of the grass fire nipped at the edge of Tanis's leather tunic as he moved as fast as he could away from the flames. He was running downhill with the powerful hot wind at his back, so despite the weight in his arms, Tanis was able to stay ahead of the fast-moving fire, but not by much. Soon the swirling smoke enveloped him. Breathing heavily, his eyes burning, Tanis lost sight of the woods. He stopped, confused, the man a dead weight in his arms.

  "Where…?" the half-elf stammered. He didn't know which way to run. The sound of the fire seemed to surround him, and there was no hope of catching a glimpse of Clotnik, elvensight or no elvensight. He wondered, for the first time, what it would feel like to burn to death.

  Just then a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. "This way!" said a choked voice only barely recognizable as Clotnik's. "You got turned around. The trees are over here. Hurry!"

  Relief showered over Tanis like a spring rain. Once again the juggler had surprised him. The half-elf followed Clotnik's lead, and a few seconds later they emerged from the cloud of smoke into the temporary shelter of the trees. The fire leaped bare yards behind them.

  They ran toward the lake as the tree line at the edge of the meadow exploded into flames. Tongues of fire shot up along the bark and ignited the limbs above. The heat was so intense that leaves began to bum even before the flames had reached them.

  "Is he alive?" Clotnik asked worriedly as they began wading into the lake.

  Tanis looked down and saw that he held an old man, his iron-gray hair streaked with ash and his thin face seamed with age. "I think he's still breathing," said the half-elf, "but he's badly burned." As if to give credence to Tanis's words, the old man's skin sizzled and smoked as it came in contact with the cold water of the lake.

  When the water became too deep for wading, Clotnik and Tanis, with the old man in tow, swam toward the log, about twelve yards away. The grass, bushes, and trees all around the lake burned orange, red, and blue, with flaming branches raining down around Tanis and Clotnik as if there'd been a cloudburst of fire.

  Then, finally, Tanis asked the question that burned as hotly in his heart as the flames that Surrounded them: "Is he the one who knew my father?"

  The juggler nodded.

  Tanis clenched his teeth until his jaws ached. He wanted to scream, to slash at fate with his sword so that it could never tease him so cruelly again. Somehow, he kept his silence.

  As the night wore on, Tanis and Clotnik clung to the log, taking turns keeping the old man's head above the water. They had no sticks to push away burning debris, so they had to use their feet to shove away anything dangerous that came crashing down near them. More worrisome, though, were the hot cinders that filled the air above the lake, hissing as they splattered into the water. Any one of the cinders could burn out an eye or disfigure a face. They had to be on constant guard, not only for themselves, but for the old man. More than once, they had to pull him under the water to keep him from getting burned. He coughed and choked, letting them know that he was still among the living, although just barely.

  And the fire raged on.

  3

  The Bargain

  It was nearly morning when the fire finally burned itself out. The wood was a smoking relic, and ash swirled above the lake on desultory breezes. Clotnik lay half in and half out of the water, one leg wrapped around the stub of a branch sticking out of the log on which he was sprawled. The other leg, as well as one arm, dangled in the cold water. Tanis, who had just awakened from a short and troubled sleep, gazed at the juggler with sympathy. Clotnik looked like an abandoned child who had run out of everything, including hope. But Clotnik would be fine with a little rest. The half-elf's gaze passed to the thin, old man, propped in the crevice between the partially submerged tree trunk and one of its sturdy limbs. Tanis watched, frozen, until the man's chest rose again. He still lived, then. At least the cold water soothed the old man's badly burned skin; it was a small blessing.

  Tanis pushed away the dirty surface water with a few flicks of his hand and then splashed his face. Although stiff from being in the water all night, the half-elf began to kick his legs and stroke with one arm, slowly maneuvering the log toward the shore.

  He had nearly reached an open batch of land when a hoarse voice croaked, "You."

  The half-elf immediately glanced at Clotnik, thinking the juggler had revived. But the dwarf snored on.

  "Here," said the voice. "It's me."

  Tanis adjusted his gaze to the crook of the tree limb and was surprised to see that the old man's blue eyes were open. He stopped swimming.

  "Keep going," ordered the ancient one. "Get me out of this water before I shrivel up."

  "You're badly burned, old one," Tanis said softly. 'The pain is going to be very bad when I lay you down on the ground."

  "What do you know of pain?" the old man asked sarcastically. "Just do as I say."

  Clotnik finally stirred. He lifted his arm to stretch and promptly slid off the log and into the water. Hailing for a handhold on the tree trunk, the juggler splashed and screamed for help, not realizing that he was a mere dozen yards from land.

  Gliding easily through the ash covered water, Tanis grabbed Clotnik around the neck and pulled his head high above the surface of the lake. Dirty water streamed from the dwarf's brown beard. "Easy," Tanis said firmly. "You're okay. Take hold of the log," he said, gesturing with his head. "We're almost on dry ground."

  "Good!" gasped Clotnik, grasping the log.

  While Tanis pushed the log closer to the shoreline. Clotnik glanced over at the old one, who was smiling- or maybe grimacing. The ancient's face was badly burned. And despite the best efforts of Tanis and Clotnik, cinders had burned away portions of the old man's iron-gray hair.

  "I didn't think you'd live till morning," Clotnik said solemnly.

  The man's voice carried the hoarseness of pain and exhaustion. "I had no choice."

  Tanis dug up their meager belongings, then took a blanket from his pack and dunked it into the lake, spreading it out on a flat piece of ground.

  "Help me," Tanis said to Clotnik, indicating the old man.

  Clotnik swallowed and came to stand knee-deep in the water on the other side of the ancient.

  "Gently now," said Tanis.

  As they lifted the old one, the stench of his dying flesh assailed them. Clotnik made a point of not looking at the poor man-at least not until they put him down. That's when the juggler saw that his own hands and arms were covered with burnt loose skin and congealed blood- and it was not his own. His stomach revolting, he shot a look at the ancient. "By Reorx!" said Clotnik. He quickly turned away from the sight, staggered a few steps away, and vomited into the lake.

  "It seems I'm rather overcooked," the old one said.

  "You accept your fate with surprising calm," said Tanis respectfully.

  "It was my own fault," the man rejoined, blue eyes filming over with tears, doubtless from the pain of his burns.

  Tanis frowned. "You can't blame yourself for not outrunning a grass fire," he said gently.

  "I don't." The blue eyes cleared again and studied the half-elf. "I blame myself for starting it."

  Tanis raised his eyebrows. "Why did you set it?"

  "Sligs were after me," the old one explained. "Quite a lot of them, in fact. I thought the fire would stop them or kill them."

  Tanis looked around. Nearby, Clotnik was recovering from his bout of nausea. Steam and smoke still rose from blackened trunks and boughs. Any animals in the area had long since disappeared. Sligs, huge, intelligent cousins of the hobgoblins, would have a hard time hiding in the lake's blaze-scarred surroundings.

  "It seems to have worked," Tanife agreed. He paused, then resumed as if talking to himself. "I've never known sligs to travel in this part of the world. They must have been after something valuable." The old man averted his eyes but didn't reply, and Tanis went on. 'The fire stretched from one horizon to the other. You must have set the fire some distance from here."

/>   The old one tried to shake his head and winced. The numbness from his overnight stay in the cold water appeared to be wearing off, and the terrible pain was only just beginning, Tanis saw. The blue eyes seemed to go out of focus again, and the man sighed and closed them.

  "No," he whispered. "It was not very far away, at all. It was my magic that spread it so wide."

  "You're a mage?"

  "What's left of one," he replied with a dull laugh.

  Something didn't add up, Tanis thought. "If you saved yourself from the sligs with magic, why didn't you cast another spell to save yourself from the fire?"

  "I couldn't… "-and his voice trailed off before he visibly pulled himself together-"I couldn't cast another spell so soon after the first. My strength is not what it used to be." He shook his head, remembering. "Once the fire was started, I had no way of controlling it. I got a good head start, but when the wind changed direction and it came after me, I didn't think I'd make it."

  Clotnik heard the last of this as he returned from the lake. He was pale and trembling, one hand held at his stomach as if to keep it calm, the other wrapped tightly around his chest as if to ward off a chill despite the rapidly rising sun.

  "The only reason you live is Tanis," the juggler said. "He saved your life."

  "I remember," whispered the pain-wracked mage. "When I saw him, at first I thought he was his father."

  Tanis felt himself go lightheaded. His mind was a jumble of questions, yet he couldn't find his voice. Please, he thought, let him live long enough to tell me what he knows.

  Clotnik reached out and carefully drew a waterlogged twig from the old man's grizzled hair. "You should rest," he gently advised the wizard.

  The mage responded by tightening his lips. The old man must have shown a mulish streak in healthier days, Tanis thought. "You know better," the wizard objected.' "There is too little time. I must talk to the half-elf while I can."

  The mage tried to turn to look at Tanis, but the effort brought him only unendurable pain. He groaned down deep in his soul as his eyes rolled up into his head.