Gilthanas’s almond-eyes flashed as he glanced at them; his face was drawn and pale.
“This is important, Laurana,” Tanis said. “Where did you go, Gilthanas?”
“Remember—I warned you.” Gilthanas’s eyes shifted to Raistlin. “I returned to see if our mage was really as exhausted as he said. He must not have been. He was gone.”
Caramon stood up, his fists clenched, his face distorted with anger. Sturm grabbed hold of him and shoved him backwards as Riverwind stepped in front of Gilthanas.
“All have a right to speak and all have a right to respond in their own defense,” the Plainsman said in his deep voice. “The elf has spoken. Let us hear from your brother.”
“Why should I speak?” Raistlin whispered harshly, his voice soft and lethal with hatred. “None of you trusts me, so why should you believe me? I refuse to answer, and you may think as you choose. If you believe I am a traitor—kill me now! I will not stop you—” He began to cough.
“You’ll have to kill me, too,” Caramon said in a choked voice. He led his brother back to his bed.
Tanis felt sick.
“Double watches all night. No, not you, Eben. Sturm, you and Flint first, Riverwind and I’ll take second.” Tanis slumped down on the floor, his head on his arms. We’ve been betrayed, he thought. One of those three is a traitor and has been all along. The guards might come at any moment. Or perhaps Verminaard was more subtle, some trap to catch us all.…
Then Tanis saw it all with sickening clarity. Of course! Verminaard would use the revolt as an excuse to kill the hostages and the cleric. He could always get more slaves, who would have a horrible example before their eyes of what happened to those who disobeyed him. This plan—Gilthanas’s plan—played right into his hands!
We should abandon it, Tanis thought wildly, then he forced himself to calm down. No, the people were too excited. Following Elistan’s miraculous healing and his announced determination to study these ancient gods, the people had hope. They believed that the gods had truly come back to them. But Tanis had seen the other Highseekers look at Elistan jealously. He knew that, though they made a show of supporting the new leader, given time they would try and subvert him. Perhaps, even now, they were moving among the people, spreading doubt.
If we backed out now, they’d never trust us again, Tanis thought. We must go ahead—no matter how great the risk. Besides, perhaps he was wrong. Maybe there was no traitor. Hoping, he fell into a fitful sleep.
The night passed in silence.
Dawn filtered through the gaping hole in the tower of the fortress. Tas blinked, then sat up, rubbing his eyes, wondering for a moment where he was. I’m in a big room, he thought, staring up at a high ceiling that had a hole cut in it to allow the dragon access to the outside. There are two other doors, besides the one Fizban and I came through last night.
Fizban! The dragon!
Tas groaned, remembering. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep! He and Fizban had only been waiting until the dragon slept to rescue Sestun. Now it was morning! Perhaps it was too late! Fearfully the kender crept to the balcony and peered over the edge. No! He sighed in relief. The dragon was asleep. Sestun slept, too, worn out with fear.
Now was their chance! Tasslehoff crawled back to the mage.
“Old One!” he whispered. “Wake up!” He shook him.
“What? Who? Fire?” The mage sat up, peering around blearily. “Where? Run for the exits!”
“No, not a fire.” Tas sighed. “It’s morning. Here’s your hat—” He handed it to the magician who was groping around, searching for it. “What happened to the puffball light?”
“Humpf!” Fizban sniffed. “I sent it back. Kept me awake, shining in my eyes.”
“We were supposed to stay awake, remember?” Tas said in exasperation. “Rescue Sestun from the dragon?”
“How were we going to do that?” Fizban asked eagerly.
“You were the one with the plan!”
“I was? Dear, dear.” The old magician blinked. “Was it a good one?”
“You didn’t tell me!” Tas nearly shouted, then he calmed down. “All you said was that we had to rescue Sestun before breakfast, because gully dwarf might start looking more appetizing to a dragon who hadn’t eaten in twelve hours.”
“Makes sense,” Fizban conceded. “Are you sure I said it?”
“Look,” said Tasslehoff patiently, “all we really need is a long rope to throw down to him. Can’t you magic that up?”
“Rope!” Fizban glared at him. “As if I’d stoop so low! That is an insult to one of my skill. Help me stand.”
Tas helped the mage stand. “I didn’t mean to insult you,” the kender said, “and I know there’s nothing fancy about rope and you are very skilled.… It’s just that—oh, all right!” Tas gestured toward the balcony. “Go ahead. I just hope we all survive,” he muttered under his breath.
“I won’t let you down, or Sestun either, for that matter,” Fizban promised, beaming. The two peeked over the balcony. Everything was as before. Sestun lay in a corner. The dragon slept soundly. Fizban closed his eyes. Concentrating, he murmured eerie words, then stretched his thin hand through the railing of the balcony and began to make a lifting motion.
Tasslehoff, watching, felt his heart fly up in his throat. “Stop!” he gurgled. “You’ve got the wrong one!”
Fizban’s eyes flew open to see the red dragon, Pyros, slowly rising off the floor, his body still curled in sleep. “Oh, dear!” the magician gasped and, quickly saying different words, he reversed the spell, lowering the dragon to the ground. “Missed my aim,” the mage said. “Now I’m zeroed in. Let’s try again.”
Tas heard the eerie words again. This time Sestun began to rise off the floor and, breath by breath, came level with the balcony. Fizban’s face grew red with exertion.
“He’s almost here! Keep going!” Tas said, hopping up and down in excitement. Guided by Fizban’s hand, Sestun sailed peacefully over the balcony. He came to rest on the dusty floor, still asleep.
“Sestun!” Tas whispered, putting his hand over the gully dwarf’s mouth so that he wouldn’t yell. “Sestun! It’s me, Tasslehoff. Wake up.”
The gully dwarf opened his eyes. His first thought was that Verminaard had decided to feed him to a vicious kender instead of the dragon. Then the gully dwarf recognized his friend and went limp with relief.
“You’re safe, but don’t say a word,” the kender warned. “The dragon can still hear us—” He was interrupted by a loud booming from below. The gully dwarf sat up in alarm.
“Shhh,” said Tas, “probably just the door into the dragon’s lair.” He hurried back to the balcony where Fizban was peering through the railing. “What is it?”
“The Dragon Highlord,” Fizban pointed to the second level where Verminaard stood on a ledge overlooking the dragon.
“Ember, awaken!” Verminaard yelled down at the sleeping dragon. “I have received reports of intruders! That cleric is here, inciting the slaves to rebellion!”
Pyros stirred and slowly opened his eyes, awakening from a disturbing dream in which he’d seen a gully dwarf fly. Shaking his giant head to clear away the sleep, he heard Verminaard ranting about clerics. He yawned. So the Dragon Highlord had found out the cleric was in the fortress. Pyros supposed he’d have to deal with this now, after all.
“Do not trouble yourself, my lord—” Pyros began, then stopped abruptly, staring at something very strange.
“Trouble myself!” Verminaard fumed. “Why I—” He stopped, too. The object at which both stared was drifting down through the air, gently as a feather.
Fizban’s hat.
Tanis woke everyone in the darkest hour before dawn.
“Well,” said Sturm, “do we go ahead?”
“We have no choice,” Tanis said grimly, looking at the group. “If one of you has betrayed us, then he must live with the knowledge that he has brought about the deaths of innocents. Verminaard will kill not only us, but t
he hostages as well. I pray that there is no traitor, and so I’m going ahead with our plans.”
No one said anything, but each glanced sideways at the others, suspicion gnawing at all of them.
When the women were awake, Tanis went over the plan again.
“My friends and I will sneak up to the children’s room with Maritta, disguised as the women who usually bring the children breakfast. We’ll lead them to the courtyard,” Tanis said quietly. “You must go about your business as you do every morning. When you are allowed into the exercise area, get the children and start moving immediately toward the mines. Your menfolk will handle the guards there and you can escape safely into the mountains to the south. Do you understand?”
The women nodded silently as they heard the sound of the guards approaching.
“This is it,” Tanis said softly. “Back to your work.”
The women scattered. Tanis beckoned to Tika and Laurana. “If we have been betrayed, you will both be in great danger, since you’ll be guarding the women—” he began.
“We’ll all be in great danger,” Laurana amended coldly. She hadn’t slept all night. She knew that if she released the tight bands she had wrapped around her soul, fear would overwhelm her.
Tanis saw none of this inner turmoil. He thought she appeared unusually pale and exceptionally beautiful this morning. A long-time campaigner himself, his preoccupation made him forget the terrors of a first battle.
Clearing his throat, he said huskily, “Tika, take my advice. Keep your sword in your scabbard. You’re less dangerous that way.” Tika giggled and nodded nervously. “Go say good-bye to Caramon,” Tanis told her.
Tika blushed crimson and, giving Tanis and Laurana a meaningful look, ran off.
Tanis gazed at Laurana steadily for a moment, and—for the first time—saw that her jaw muscles were clenched so tightly the tendons in her neck were stretched. He reached out to hold her, but she was stiff and cold as a draconian’s corpse.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tanis said, releasing her. “This isn’t your fight. Go to the mines with the other women.”
Laurana shook her head, waiting to speak until she was certain her voice was under control. “Tika is not trained for fighting. I am. No matter if it was ‘ceremonial.’ ” She smiled bitterly at Tanis’s look of discomfiture. “I will do my part, Tanis.” His human name came awkwardly to her lips. “Otherwise, you might think I am a traitor.”
“Laurana, please believe me!” Tanis sighed. “I don’t think Gilthanas is a traitor any more than you do! It’s just—damn it, there are so many lives at stake, Laurana! Can’t you realize?”
Feeling his hands on her arms shake, she looked up at him and saw the anguish and the fear in his own face, mirroring the fear she felt inside. Only his was not fear for himself, it was fear for others. She drew a deep breath. “I am sorry, Tanis,” she said. “You are right. Look. The guards are here. It is time to go.”
She turned and walked away without looking back. It didn’t occur to her until it was too late that Tanis might have been silently asking for comfort himself.
Maritta and Goldmoon led the companions up a flight of narrow stairs to the first level. The draconian guards didn’t accompany them, saying something about “special duty.” Tanis asked Maritta if that was usual and she shook her head, her face worried. They had no choice but to go on. Six gully dwarves trailed after them, carrying heavy pots of what smelled like oatmeal. They paid little attention to the women until Caramon stumbled over his skirt climbing the stairs and fell to his knees, uttering a very unladylike oath. The gully dwarves’ eyes opened wide.
“Don’t even squeak!” Flint said, whirling around to face them, a knife flashing in his hand.
The gully dwarves cowered against the wall, shaking their heads frantically, the pots clattering.
The companions reached the top of the stairs and stopped.
“We cross this hall to the door—” Maritta pointed. “Oh, no!” She grasped Tanis’s arm. “There’s a guard at the door. It’s never guarded!”
“Hush, it could be coincidence,” Tanis said reassuringly, although he knew it wasn’t. “Just keep on as we planned.” Maritta nodded fearfully and walked across the hall.
“Guards!” Tanis turned to Sturm. “Be ready. Remember—quick and deadly. No noise!”
According to Gilthanas’s map, the playroom was separated from the children’s sleeping quarters by two rooms. The first was a storeroom which Maritta reported was lined with shelves containing toys and clothing and other items. A tunnel ran through this room to the second—the room that housed the dragon, Flamestrike.
“Poor thing,” Maritta had said when discussing the plan with Tanis. “She is as much a prisoner as we are. The Dragon Highlord never allows her out. I think they’re afraid she’ll wander off. They’ve even built a tunnel through the storeroom, too small for her to fit through. Not that she wants to get out, but I think she might like to watch the children play.”
Tanis regarded Maritta dubiously, wondering if they might encounter a dragon very different from the mad, feeble creature she described.
Beyond the dragon’s lair was the room where the children slept. This was the room they would have to enter, to wake the children and lead them outdoors. The playroom connected directly with the courtyard through a huge door locked with a great oaken beam.
“More to keep the dragon in than us,” Maritta stated.
It must be just about dawning, Tanis thought, as they emerged from the stairwell and turned toward the playroom. The torchlight cast their shadows ahead of them. Pax Tharkas was quiet, deathly quiet. Too quiet—for a fortress preparing for war. Four draconian guards stood huddled together talking at the doorway to the playroom. Their conversation broke off as they saw the women approach.
Goldmoon and Maritta walked in front, Goldmoon’s hood was drawn back, her hair glimmering in the torchlight. Directly behind Goldmoon came Riverwind. Bent over a staff, the Plainsman was practically walking on his knees. Caramon and Raistlin followed, the mage staying close to his brother, then Eben and Gilthanas. All the traitors together, as Raistlin had sarcastically observed. Flint brought up the rear, turning occasionally to glower at the panic-stricken gully dwarves.
“You’re early this morning,” a draconian growled.
The women clustered like chickens in a half-circle around the guards and stood, waiting patiently to be allowed inside.
“It smells of thunder,” Maritta said sharply. “I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You’ll frighten the children.”
One of the draconians made some comment in their harsh language and two of the others grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. The spokesman only snarled.
“Lord Verminaard’s command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We’re ordered to search you before you enter.” The draconian’s eyes fastened onto Goldmoon hungrily. “That’s going to be a pleasure, I’d say.”
“For you maybe,” muttered another guard, staring at Sturm in disgust. “I’ve never seen an uglier female in my life than—ugh—” The creature slumped over, a dagger thrust deep into its ribs. The other three draconians died within seconds. Caramon wrapped his hands around the neck of one. Eben hit his in the stomach and Flint lobbed off its head with an axe as it fell. Tanis stabbed the leader through the heart with his sword. He started to let go of the weapon, expecting it to remain stuck in the creature’s stony corpse. To his amazement, his new sword slid out of the stone carcass as easily as if it had been nothing more than goblin flesh.
He had no time to ponder this strange occurrence. The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.
“Never mind them!” Tanis snapped at Flint. “Into the playroom. Hurry!” Stepping over the bodies, he flung the door open.
“If anyone finds these bodies, it’ll be all over,
” Caramon said.
“It was over before we began!” Sturm muttered angrily. “We’ve been betrayed, so it’s just a matter of time.”
“Keep moving!” Tanis said sharply, shutting the door behind them.
“Be very quiet,” Maritta whispered. “Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She’ll never recognize you. She’s blind in one eye.”
The chill dawn light filtered in through tiny windows high above the floor, shining on a grim, cheerless playroom. A few well-used toys lay scattered about. There was no furniture. Caramon walked over to inspect the huge wooden beam barring the double doors that led to the courtyard outside.
“I can manage,” he said. The big man appeared to lift the beam effortlessly, then set it against the wall and shoved on the door. “Not locked from the outside,” he reported. “I guess they didn’t expect us to get this far.”
Or perhaps Lord Verminaard wants us out there, Tanis thought. He wondered if what the draconian said was true. Had the Dragon Highlord and the dragon really gone? Or were they—angrily he wrenched his mind back. It doesn’t matter, he told himself. We have no choice. We must go on.
“Flint, stay here,” he said. “If anyone comes, warn us first, then fight.”
Flint nodded and took a position just inside the door leading to the corridor, first opening it a crack to see. The draconian bodies had turned to dust on the floor.
Maritta took a torch from the wall. Lighting it, she led the companions through a dark archway into the tunnel leading to the dragon’s lair.
“Fizban! Your hat!” Tas risked whispering. Too late. The old magician made a grab for it but missed.
“Spies!” yelled Verminaard in a rage, pointing up to the balcony. “Capture them, Ember! I want them alive!”
Alive? the dragon repeated to himself. No, that could not be! Pyros recalled the strange sound he had heard last night and he knew without a doubt that these spies had overheard him talking about the Green Gemstone Man! Only a privileged few knew that dread secret, the great secret, the secret that would conquer the world for the Queen of Darkness. These spies must die, and the secret die with them.
Dragons of Autumn Twilight Page 44