Again, a red dragon flew overhead, slicing the air with its massive wings. Draconian troops leaped off the dragon’s back. Their objective was now clear to Palin. The draconians were going to take and hold the Citadel of Light, use it as their base of operations. Once established, they would spread throughout the island, rounding up all civilians. Another force was probably attacking the Solamnic Knights, keeping them penned up in their fortress.
Do they have a description of Tas and me? Palin asked himself. Or have they been told to bring to Beryl any magic-user and kender they come across? Not that it matters, he realized bitterly. Either way, I’ll soon be a prisoner again. Tormented and tortured. Chained up in the darkness, to rot in my own filth. I am helpless to save myself. I have no way to fight them. If I try to use my magic, the dead will siphon it off, take it for themselves, whatever good it does them.
He stood in the shadows of the crystal wall, his mind in turmoil, fear roiling inside him so that he was sick with it, thought he might die of it. He was not afraid of death. Dying was the easy part. Living as a prisoner . . . he could not face that. Not again.
“Palin,” said Tas urgently. “I think they’ve seen us.”
A draconian officer had indeed seen them. He pointed in their direction and issued orders. His troops started toward them. Palin wondered where Lady Camilla was and had a panicked notion to call for help. He discarded that immediately. Wherever she was, she had enough to do to help herself.
“Are we going to fight them?” Tas asked eagerly. “I have my special knife, Rabbit Slayer.” He began to rummage inside his pouches, dumping out pieces of cutlery, boot lacings, an old sock. “Caramon named it that, because he said it would be good only for killing dangerous rabbits. I never met a dangerous rabbit, but it works pretty well against draconians. I just have to remember where I put it—”
I’ll dash back inside the building, Palin thought, panic taking hold of him. I’ll find a place to hide, any place to hide. He had an image of the draconians discovering him huddled, whimpering, in a closet. Dragging him forth . . .
Bitter gall filled Palin’s mouth. If he ran away this time he would run away the next time and he would keep on running, leaving others to die for him. He was finished running. He would make his stand here. I do not matter, Palin said to himself. I am expendable. Tasslehoff is the one who matters. The kender must not come to harm. Not in this time, not in this world. For if the kender dies, if he dies in a place and a time he is not meant to, the world and all of us on it—dragons, draconians, myself alike—will cease to exist.
“Tas,” said Palin quietly, his voice steady, “I’m going to draw off these draconians, and while I’m doing that, you run into the hills. You’ll be safe there. When the dragons leave—and I think they will, once they have captured me—I want you to go to Palanthas, find Jenna, and have her take you to Dalamar. When I say the word, you must run, Tas. Run as fast as ever you can.”
The draconians were coming nearer. They were able to see him clearly now, and they had begun to talk loudly among themselves, pointing at him and jabbering. Judging by their excitement, one of his questions was answered. They had a description of him.
“I can’t leave you, Palin!” Tas was protesting. “I admit that I was mad at you because you were trying to kill me by making me go back to be stepped on by a giant, but I’m mostly over that now and—”
“Run, Tas!” Palin ordered, angry with desperation. Opening the bag containing the pieces of the magical device, he took the faceplate of the device in his hand. “Run! My father was right. You must get to Dalamar! You must tell him—”
“I know!” Tas cried. He hadn’t been listening. “We’ll hide in the Hedge Maze. They’ll never find us there. C’mon, Palin! Quickly!”
The draconians were shouting and calling out. Other draconians, hearing their yells, turned to look.
“Tas!” Palin rounded on him furiously. “Do as I tell you! Go!”
“Not without you,” Tas said stubbornly. “What would Caramon say if he found out I left you here to die all by yourself? They’re moving awfully fast, Palin,” he added. “If we’re going to try to make it to the Hedge Maze, I think we better go now.”
Palin brought out the faceplate. With the Device of Time Journeying, his father had traveled back to the time of the First Cataclysm to try to save Lady Crysania and prevent his twin brother Raistlin from entering the Abyss. With this device, Tasslehoff had traveled here, bringing with him a mystery and a hope. With this device, Palin had gone back in time to find that time before the Second Cataclysm did not exist. The device was one of the most powerful and wondrous ever created by the wizards of Krynn. He was about to destroy it, and by destroying it, perhaps he was destroying them all. Yet, it was the only way.
He grasped the faceplate in his hand, gripped it so hard that the metal edges cut into his flesh. Crying out words of magic that he had not spoken since the gods had departed with the end of the Fourth Age, Palin hurled the faceplate at the advancing draconians. He had no idea what he hoped to accomplish. His was an act of despair.
Seeing the mage throwing something at them, the draconians skidded warily to a halt.
The faceplate struck the ground at their feet.
The draconians scrambled back, arms raised to protect their faces, expecting the device to explode.
The faceplate rolled on the ground, wobbled, and fell over. Some of the draconians started to laugh.
The faceplate began to glow. A jet of brilliant, blinding blue light streaked out, struck Palin in the chest.
The jolt shocked him, nearly stopping his heart. He feared for a horrible moment that the device was punishing him, exacting revenge upon him. Then he felt his body suffused with power. Magic, the old magic, burned inside him. The magic bubbled in his blood, intoxicating, exhilarating. The magic sang in his soul and thrilled his flesh. He cried out words to a spell, the first spell that came to mind, and marveled that he still remembered the words.
Not such a marvel, after all. Hadn’t he recited them in a litany of grief, over and over to himself for all these many years?
Balls of fire flashed from his fingertips and struck the advancing draconians. The magic fire burned with such ferocity that the lizard-men burst into flame, became living torches. The blazing flames almost immediately consumed them, leaving them a mass of charred flesh, melted armor, piles of smoldering bones and teeth.
“You did it!” Tasslehoff shouted gleefully. “It worked.”
Daunted by the horrific fate of their comrades, the other draconians were regarding Palin with hatred but also new and wary respect.
“Now will you run?” Palin shouted in exasperation.
“Are you coming?” Tas asked, balancing on his toes.
“Yes, damn it! Yes!” Palin assured him, and Tas dashed off. Palin ran after him. He was a gray-headed, middle-aged man, who had once been in shape, but had not performed strenuous physical exertion like this in a long time. Casting the magic spell had drained him. He could already feel himself starting to weaken. He could not keep up this pace for long.
Behind him, an officer shouted furious orders. Palin glanced back to see the draconians once more in pursuit, their clawed feet tearing up the grassy lawns, sending divots of mud into the air. Draconians use their wings to help them run, and they were taking to the air, skimming over the ground at a rate that neither the middle-aged Palin nor the short-legged kender could ever hope to match.
The Hedge Maze was still some distance away. Palin’s breath was coming in painful gasps. He had a sharp pain in his side, and his leg muscles burned. Tas ran gamely, but he was no longer a young kender. He stumbled and panted for air. The draconians were steadily gaining on them.