The Forestmaster smiled gently. “Be at ease, warrior,” she said. “The deer fulfills his purpose in life by providing sustenance for the hunter—be it wolf or man. We do not mourn the loss of those who die fulfilling their destinies.”
It seemed to Tanis that the Forestmaster’s dark eyes went to Sturm as she spoke, and there was a deep sadness in them that filled the half-elf’s heart with cold fear. But when he turned back to the Forestmaster, he saw the magnificent animal smiling once more. “My imagination,” he thought.
“How do we know, Master,” Tanis asked hesitantly, “whether the life of any creature has fulfilled its destiny? I have known the very old to die in bitterness and despair. I have seen young children die before their time but leave behind such a legacy of love and joy that grief for their passing was tempered by the knowledge that their brief lives had given much to others.”
“You have answered your own question, Tanis Half-Elven, far better than I could,” the Forestmaster said gravely. “Say that our lives are measured not by gain but by giving.”
The half-elf started to reply, but the Forestmaster interrupted. “Put your cares aside for now. Enjoy the peace of my forest while you may. Its time is passing.”
Tanis glanced sharply at the Forestmaster, but the great animal had turned her attention away from him and was staring far off into the woods, her eyes clouded with sorrow. The half-elf wondered what she meant, and he sat, lost in dark thoughts, until he felt a gentle hand touch his.
“You should eat,” Goldmoon said. “Your cares won’t vanish with the meal—and, if they do, so much the better.”
Tanis smiled at her and began to eat with a sharp appetite. He took the Forestmaster’s advice and relegated his worries to the back of his mind for a while. Goldmoon was right: they weren’t likely to go away.
The rest of the companions did the same, accepting the strangeness of their surroundings with the aplomb of seasoned travelers. Though there was nothing to drink but water—much to Flint’s disappointment—the cool, clear liquid washed the terrors and doubts from their hearts as it had cleansed the blood and dirt from their hands. They laughed, talked, and ate, enjoying each other’s companionship. The Forestmaster spoke to them no more but watched each in turn.
Sturm’s pale face had regained some color. He ate with grace and dignity. Sitting next to Tasslehoff, he answered the kender’s inexhaustible store of questions about his homeland. He also, without calling undue attention to the fact, removed from Tasslehoff’s pouch a knife and fork that had unaccountably made their way there. The knight sat as far from Caramon as possible and did his best to ignore him.
The big warrior was obviously enjoying his meal. He ate three times more than anyone else, three times as fast, and three times as loudly. When not eating, he described to Flint a fight with a troll, using the bone he was chewing on as a sword to illustrate his thrusts and parries. Flint ate heartily and told Caramon he was the biggest liar in Krynn.
Raistlin, sitting beside his brother, ate very little, taking nibbles of only the tenderest meat, a few grapes, and a bit of bread he soaked in water first. He said nothing but listened intently to everyone, absorbing all that was said into his soul, storing it for future reference and use.
Goldmoon ate her meal delicately, with practiced ease. The Que-shu princess was accustomed to eating in public view and could make conversation easily. She chatted with Tanis, encouraging him to describe the elven lands and other places he had visited. Riverwind, next to her, was acutely uncomfortable and self-conscious. Although not a boisterous eater like Caramon, the Plainsman was obviously more accustomed to eating at the campfires of his fellow tribesmen than in royal halls. He handled cutlery with awkward clumsiness, and he knew that he appeared crude beside Goldmoon. He said nothing, seeming willing to fade into the background.
Finally everyone began shoving plates away and settling back in the strange wooden chairs, ending their dinner with pieces of sweet shortcake. Tas began to sing his kender trailsong, to the delight of the centaurs. Then suddenly Raistlin spoke. His soft, whispering voice slithered through the laughter and loud talk.
“Forestmaster”—the mage hissed the name—“today we fought loathsome creatures that we have never seen before on Krynn. Can you tell us of these?”
The relaxed and festive mood was smothered as effectively as if covered by a shroud. Everyone exchanged grim looks.
“These creatures walk like men,” Caramon added, “but look like reptiles. They have clawed hands and feet and wings and”—his voice dropped—“they turn to stone when they die.”
The Forestmaster regarded them with sadness as she rose to her feet. She seemed to expect the question.
“I know of these creatures,” she answered. “Some of them entered the Darken Wood with a party of goblins from Haven a week ago. They wore hoods and cloaks, no doubt to disguise their horrible appearance. The centaurs followed them in secret, to make certain they harmed no one before the spectral minions dealt with them. The centaurs reported that the creatures call themselves ‘draconians’ and speak of belonging to the ‘Order of Draco.’ ”
Raistlin’s brow furrowed. “Draco,” he whispered, puzzled. “But who are they? What race or species?”
“I do not know. I can tell you only this: they are not of the animal world, and they belong to none of the races of Krynn.”
This took a moment for everyone to assimilate. Caramon blinked. “I don’t—” he began.
“She means, my brother, that they are not of this world,” Raistlin explained impatiently.
“Then where’d they come from?” Caramon asked, startled.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Raistlin said coldly. “Where did they come from—and why?”
“I cannot answer that.” The Forestmaster shook her head. “But I can tell you that before the spectral minions put an end to these draconians, they spoke of ’armies to the north.’ ”
“I saw them.” Tanis rose to his feet. “Campfires—” His voice caught in his throat as he realized what the Forestmaster had been about to say. “Armies! Of these draconians? There must be thousands!” Now everyone was standing and talking at once.
“Impossible!” the knight said, scowling.
“Who’s behind this? The Seekers? By the gods,” Caramon bellowed, “I’ve got a notion to go to Haven and bash—”
“Go to Solamnia, not to Haven,” Sturm advised loudly.
“We should travel to Qualinost,” Tanis argued. “The elves—”
“The elves have their own problems,” the Forestmaster interrupted, her cool voice a calming influence. “As do the Highseekers of Haven. No place is safe. But I will tell you where you must go to find answers to your questions.”
“What do you mean you will tell us where to go?” Raistlin stepped forward slowly, his red robes rippling around him as he walked. “What do you know of us?” The mage paused, his eyes narrowing with a sudden thought.
“Yes, I was expecting you,” the Forestmaster replied in answer to Raistlin’s thoughts. “A great and shining being appeared to me in the wilderness this day. He told me that the one bearing the blue crystal staff would come this night to Darken Wood. The spectral minions would let the staff-bearer and her companions pass—though they have allowed no human or elf or dwarf or kender to enter Darken Wood since the Cataclysm. I was to give the bearer of the staff this message: ‘You must fly straight away across the Eastwall Mountains. In two days the staffbearer must be within Xak Tsaroth. There, if you prove worthy, you shall receive the greatest gift given to the world.’ ”
“Eastwall Mountains!” The dwarf’s mouth dropped open. “We’ll need to fly all right, to reach Xak Tsaroth in two days time. Shining being! Hah!” He snapped his fingers.
The rest glanced uneasily at each other. Finally Tanis said hesitantly, “I’m afraid the dwarf is right, Forestmaster. The journey to Xak Tsaroth would be long and perilous. We would have to go back through lands we know are inha
bited by goblins and these draconians.”
“And then we would have to pass through the Plains,” Riverwind spoke for the first time since meeting the Forestmaster. “Our lives are forfeit.” He gestured toward Goldmoon. “The Que-shu are fierce fighters and they know the land. They are waiting. We would never get through safely.” He looked at Tanis. “And my people have no love for elves.”
“And why go to Xak Tsaroth anyway?” Caramon rumbled. “Greatest gift—what could that be? A powerful sword? A chest of steel coins? That would come in handy, but there’s a battle brewing up north apparently. I’d hate to miss it.”
The Forestmaster nodded gravely. “I understand your dilemma,” she said. “I offer what help is in my power. I will see to it that you reach Xak Tsaroth in two days. The question is, will you go?”
Tanis turned to the others. Sturm’s face was drawn. He met Tanis’s look and sighed. “The stag led us here,” he said slowly, “perhaps to receive this advice. But my heart lies north, in my homeland. If armies of these draconians are preparing to attack, my place is with those Knights who will surely band together to fight this evil. Still, I do not want to desert you, Tanis, or you, lady.” He nodded to Goldmoon, then slumped down, his aching head in his hands.
Caramon shrugged. “I’ll go anywhere, fight anything, Tanis. You know that. What say you, brother?”
But Raistlin, staring into the darkness, did not answer.
Goldmoon and Riverwind were speaking together in low voices. They nodded to each other, then Goldmoon said to Tanis, “We will go to Xak Tsaroth. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us—”
“But we ask for no man’s help any longer,” Riverwind stated proudly. “This is the completion of our quest. As we began alone, so we will finish it alone.”
“And you will die alone!” Raistlin said softly.
Tanis shivered. “Raistlin,” he said, “a word with you.”
The mage turned obediently and walked with the half-elf into a small thicket of gnarled and stunted trees. Darkness closed around them.
“Just like the old days,” Caramon said, his eyes following his brother uneasily.
“And look at all the trouble we got into then,” Flint reminded him, plopping down onto the grass.
“I wonder what they talk about?” Tasslehoff said. Long ago, the kender had tried to eavesdrop on these private conversations between the mage and the half-elf, but Tanis had always caught him and shooed him away. “And why can’t they discuss it with us?”
“Because we’d probably rip Raistlin’s heart out,” Sturm answered, in a low, pain-filled voice. “I don’t care what you say, Caramon, there’s a dark side to your brother, and Tanis has seen it. For which I’m grateful. He can deal with it. I couldn’t.”
Uncharacteristically, Caramon said nothing. Sturm stared at the warrior, startled. In the old days, the fighter would have leaped to his brother’s defense. Now he sat silent, preoccupied, his face troubled. So there is a dark side to Raistlin, and now Caramon, too, knows what it is. Sturm shuddered, wondering what had happened in these past five years that cast such a dark shadow across the cheerful warrior.
Raistlin walked close to Tanis. The mage’s arms were crossed in the sleeves of his robes, his head bowed in thought. Tanis could feel the heat of Raistlin’s body radiate through the red robes, as though he were being consumed by an inner fire. As usual, Tanis felt uncomfortable in the young mage’s presence. Yet, right now, he knew of no one else he could turn to for advice. “What do you know of Xak Tsaroth?” Tanis asked.
“There was a temple there—a temple to the ancient gods,” Raistlin whispered. His eyes glittered in the eerie light of the red moon. “It was destroyed in the Cataclysm and its people fled, certain that the gods had abandoned them. It passed from memory. I did not know it still existed.”
“What did you see, Raistlin?” Tanis asked softly, after a long pause. “You looked far away—what did you see?”
“I am magi, Tanis, not a seer.”
“Don’t give me that,” Tanis snapped. “It’s been a long time, but not that long. I know you don’t have the gift of foresight. You were thinking, not scrying. And you came up with answers. I want those answers. You’ve got more brains than all of us put together, even if—” He stopped.
“Even if I am twisted and warped.” Raistlin’s voice rose with harsh arrogance. “Yes, I am smarter than you—all of you. And someday I will prove it! Someday you—with all your strength and charm and good looks—you, all of you, will call me master!” His hands clenched to fists inside his robes, his eyes flared red in the crimson moonlight. Tanis, who was accustomed to this tirade, waited patiently. The mage relaxed, his hands unclenched. “But for now, I give you my advice. What did I see? These armies, Tanis, armies of draconians, will overrun Solace and Haven and all the lands of your fathers. That is the reason we must reach Xak Tsaroth. What we find there will prove this army’s undoing.”
“But why are there armies?” Tanis asked. “What would anyone want with control of Solace and Haven and the Plains to the east? Is it the Seekers?”
“Seekers! Hah!” Raistlin snorted. “Open your eyes, Half-Elf. Someone or something powerful created these creatures—these draconians. Not the idiot Seekers. And no one goes to all that trouble to take over two farm cities or even to look for a blue crystal staff. This is a war of conquest, Tanis. Someone seeks to conquer Ansalon! Within two days time, life on Krynn as we have known it will come to an end. This is the portent of the fallen stars. The Queen of Darkness has returned. We face a foe who seeks—at the very least—to enslave us, or perhaps destroy us completely.”
“Your advice?” Tanis asked reluctantly. He felt change coming and, like all elves, he feared and detested change.
Raistlin smiled his crooked, bitter smile, reveling in his moment of superiority. “That we go to Xak Tsaroth immediately. That we leave tonight, if possible, by whatever means this Forestmaster has planned. If we do not acquire this gift within two days—the armies of draconians will.”
“What do you think the gift might be?” Tanis wondered aloud. “A sword or coins, like Caramon said?”
“My brother’s a fool,” Raistlin stated coldly. “You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
“Then what?” Tanis pursued.
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. “I have given you my advice. Act upon it as you will. I have my own reasons for going. Let us leave it at that, Half-Elf. But it will be dangerous. Xak Tsaroth was abandoned three hundred years ago. I do not think it will have remained abandoned long.”
“That is true,” Tanis mused. He stood silently for long moments. The mage coughed once, softly. “Do you believe we were chosen, Raistlin?” Tanis asked.
The mage did not hesitate. “Yes. So I was given to know in the Towers of Sorcery. So Par-Salian told me.”
“But why?” Tanis questioned impatiently. “We are not the stuff of heroes—well, maybe Sturm—”
“Ah,” said Raistlin. “But who chose us? And for what purpose? Consider that, Tanis Half-Elven!”
The mage bowed to Tanis, mockingly, and turned to walk back through the brush to the rest of the group.
12
Winged sleep. Smoke in the east.
Dark memories.
Xak Tsaroth,” Tanis said. “That is my decision.”
“Is that what the mage advises?” Sturm asked sullenly. “It is,” Tanis answered, “and I believe his advice is sound. If we do not reach Xak Tsaroth within two days, others will and this ‘greatest gift’ may be lost forever.”
“The greatest gift!” Tasslehoff said, his eyes shining. “Just think, Flint! Jewels beyond price! Or maybe—”
“A keg of ale and Otik’s fried potatoes,” the dwarf muttered. “And a nice warm fire. But no—Xak Tsaroth!”
“I guess we’re all in agreement, then,” Tanis said. “If you feel you are needed in the north, Sturm, of course you—”
“I will go with you to Xak Tsaroth.” Stu
rm sighed. “There is nothing in the north for me. I have been deluding myself. The knights of my order are scattered, holed up in crumbling fortresses, fighting off the debt collectors.”
The knight’s face twisted in agony and he lowered his head. Tanis suddenly felt tired. His neck hurt, his shoulders and back ached, his leg muscles twitched. He started to say something more, then felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see Goldmoon’s face, cool and calm in the moonlight.
“You are weary, my friend,” she said. “We all are. But we are glad you are coming, Riverwind and I.” Her hand was strong. She looked up, her clear gaze encompassing the entire group. “We are glad all of you are coming with us.”
Tanis, glancing at Riverwind, wasn’t certain the tall Plainsman agreed with her.
“Just another adventure,” Caramon said, flushing with embarrassment. “Eh, Raist?” He nudged his brother. Raistlin, ignoring his twin, looked at the Forestmaster.
“We must leave immediately,” the mage said coldly. “You mentioned something about helping us cross the mountains.”
“Indeed,” the Forestmaster replied, nodding gravely. “I, too, am glad you have made this decision. I hope you find my aid welcome.”
The Forestmaster raised her head, looking up into the sky. The companions followed her gaze. The night sky, seen through the canopy of tall trees, glittered brilliantly with stars. Soon the companions became aware of something flying up there, winking out the stars in passing.
“I’ll be a gully dwarf,” Flint said solemnly. “Flying horses. What next?”
“Oh!” Tasslehoff drew in a deep breath. The kender was transfixed with wonder as he watched the beautiful animals circle above them, descending lower and lower with each turn, their fur radiating blue-white in the moonlight. Tas clasped his hands together. Never in his wildest kender imaginings had he dreamed of flying. This was worth fighting all the draconians on Krynn.
The pegasi dipped to the ground, their feathery wings creating a wind that tossed the tree branches and laid the grass flat. A large pegasus with wings that touched the ground when he walked bowed reverently to the Forestmaster. His bearing was proud and noble. Each of the other beautiful creatures bowed in turn.
Dragons of Autumn Twilight Page 14