“Don’t touch it!” he reprimanded the kender sharply.
Earwig snatched his hand back.
“What are we supposed to do with it?” he asked.
“Destroy it,” the fighter replied, involuntarily ducking as a shadowy arm passed above him. Several more arms appeared, hands reaching down out of the darkness. “That’s what Raistlin told us to do.”
“How?” Earwig eyed the sealed box with a professional air. “I don’t suppose you could hack it to bits?”
Caramon gave the box a troubled glance. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, what are we doing down here, then?” demanded Earwig in exasperation.
“Don’t ask me! I just … always figured that Raist’d be here to help us.”
“Well, if we can’t destroy it, then let’s open it and see what’s inside.”
Rubbing his hands in anticipation, Earwig jumped up on the dais. He inspected the box, running his hands along the artifact’s sides, attempting to find a keyhole or a crack.
“Earwig, I’m not sure about this-” Caramon began, his attention divided between the kender and the flailing arms.
“Ah, ha!”
A loud click came from the box, and a crack opened in its center, running around it horizontally.
“Oops,” said Earwig.
Caramon, having been with other kender on adventures, knew that dreaded word all too well. He immediately assumed a fighting stance.
“What is it? What did you do, Earwig?”
“Nothing!” said the kender with an air of offended innocence. “But I think you could pry this open now.”
Caramon edged his way toward the dais, noticing, as he moved, that the weaving arms were becoming more real. There were now too many to duck, and the warrior braced himself when the first touched him. But it passed right through his body as if he were as insubstantial as they.
“Hurry, Caramon!” said Earwig in excitement. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”
“I can,” muttered the warrior.
He stepped up to the box. Glancing around him one last time, he propped his sword on the side of the box, spat on his hands, and rubbed them together. He braced himself, grasped the top, and heaved.
There was a hissing sound. The lid opened so easily that he nearly fell on top of it. Gingerly, holding the heavy top open with both hands, he gazed into the box.
“Let me see! Let me see!” shouted Earwig, shoving his head beneath Caramon’s big arm.
Jewels sparkled in the flickering torchlight. Earwig’s small hand darted forward.
“Hey!” said Caramon, panting beneath the weight of the lid. “We’re here to destroy those … not steal them.”
“I’ve never stolen anything in my life!” Earwig cried indignantly. He lifted a glass tube filled with glowing blue sapphires from the box.
“Look at this!” he said in awe. “Did you ever see anything more beautiful?” A line of blue light trailed from the jewels back into the box.
“I don’t think you should do that,” Caramon said nervously. “Put it-”
Without warning, one of the hands reached out, grabbed the tube, and replaced it in the box. Caramon braced himself for an attack, but the hand returned to its incomprehensible wavings.
“Wasn’t that great, Caramon? Let’s see if it’ll do it again!”
Earwig reached in and took hold of a glass tube lined with black obsidian. Rubies and emeralds and sapphires gleamed in the center. The kender pulled, but he couldn’t budge it.
The hands seemed to pause in their wavings. Caramon had the uneasy impression he was being watched by unseen eyes.
“Earwig,” he said in a low undertone. “I think you’ve found something there.”
“I know, but”-the kender tugged, his face turning red-“it won’t come out!”
Caramon risked a glance. “Give it a twist.” His arms were beginning to give beneath the lid’s weight. “Hurry! I don’t think I can hold this open much longer!”
Earwig put both hands around the tube and tried to rotate it, but his fingers slipped on the smooth container.
“Try the other way,” Caramon suggested.
He was watching the hands closely and could have sworn that he saw the fingers twitch in alarm. We’re doing something that somebody doesn’t like, Caramon thought grimly. He only wished he knew what.
The kender turned the tube to his left.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted. “It’s giving way!” He twisted it harder.
“Great! Keep going and-”
A shadowy hand suddenly gripped Caramon around the neck. Two others caught him beneath his shoulders and began to tug at him. He exerted his strength against them, keeping a tight grip on the lid.
“I don’t know … how long … I can keep this … raised!” he gasped. “Hurry!”
“Hurry? Hurry and do what?” Earwig cried frantically, twisting faster.
The tube was slowly coming out of its hole. Hands reached for him, but seemed unwilling to touch him, perhaps because he held the tube.
“What am I supposed to do after I get it?”
Caramon could only grunt in answer. His face was twisted in pain, turning red with the strain of trying to hang on to the lid and pulling against the hands.
“I’ve got it!” Earwig yanked out the tube.
He stared into it, shook it, and held it against his ear, listening for a sound. Fingers on the hands near him curled and twitched, as if in an agony of frustration.
Caramon issued a smothered scream. More hands were descending, gripping him, endeavoring to haul him up into the air. He clung to the lid with all his strength.
“Do something!”
“I’m trying!” Earwig gasped.
He turned the tube over and over. “Argh!” he finally cried in frustration and smashed the tube against the side of the box.
A high-pitched keening noise cut through the air, piercing the head. Caramon had never heard anything so horrible, felt anything more painful. He dropped the lid, and it closed with a slam. Hands wrapped around his throat and began choking out his life.
Shoulders hunched to try to block out the noise, Earwig bashed the dark cylinder against the side of the box again.
Caramon felt himself losing consciousness. His neck was thick, but the hands were strong and were slowly cutting off his air.
Earwig, looking at his friend, saw the warrior’s mouth gaping open, his eyes bulging from his head.
“Break!” the kender commanded frantically, and hit the tube against the box once again. The bottom of the tube gave way, and a smaller tube slid out. Inside it was a band of gold.
“Oh, no!” Earwig groaned.
Kender aren’t afraid anything, but this one had definitely had his fill of rings.
I have to do something, though. They’re killing Caramon. He shook the tube and the ring rolled out into his palm.
What do you want of me? boomed a voice.
“You again!” Earwig muttered.
The hands near him curled into fists. One swung at him. Earwig ducked. The air whistling past from the force of the blow nearly knocked him down. He looked at Caramon. His friend had lost consciousness and was hanging limply in the grip of the hands that were slowly hauling the big man up into the air.
Earwig looked back at the ring.
“I want out of here!” he cried.
Put the ring on your thumb, Your Dark Majesty, and the gate will open.
“Well, I’m not a Dark Majesty, but there’s certainly no time to go and find someone who is. Here goes!” said Earwig and shoved the ring onto his thumb.
“No!” shrieked a terrible-sounding voice, and it seemed to the kender that five voices were actually screaming at once. “It is not the time! I do not have the power of the Eye!”
A blast of air hit the kender, knocking him flat on top of Caramon. The darkness rushed past him, and then the street rushed past him and then buildings and ugly creatures rushed past him, all seeming to be going somewhere in a tremendous hurry. Oddly enough, however, they all seemed to be going backward.
And then the rushing ceased.