Horns. They could all hear the shrill braying of many, many horns, carried on the north wind.
"The armies," said Tanis softly. "War has begun."
The companions fled Xak Tsaroth into the twilight. They traveled west, toward the mountains. The air was cold with the bite of early winter. Dead leaves, blown by chill winds, flew past their faces. They decided to head for Solace, planning to stock up on supplies and gather what information they could before determining where to go in their search for a leader. Tanis could foresee arguments along those lines. Already Sturm was talking of Solamnia. Goldmoon mentioned Haven, while Tanis himself was thinking the Disks of Mishakal would be safest in the elven kingdom.
Discussing vague plans, they traveled on well into the night. They saw no draconians and supposed that those escaping Xak Tsaroth had traveled north to join up with the armies of this Lord Verminaard, Dragon Highmaster. The silver moon rose, then the red. The companions climbed high, the sound of the horns driving them on past the point of exhaustion. They made camp on the summit of the mountain. After eating a cheerless supper, not daring to light a fire, they set the watch, then slept.
Raistlin woke in the cold gray hour before dawn. He had heard something. Had he been dreaming? No, there it was again-the sound of someone crying. Goldmoon, the mage thought irritably, and started to lie back down. Then he saw Bupu, curled in a ball of misery, blubbering into a blanket.
Raistlin glanced around. The others were asleep except for Flint standing watch on the other side of camp. The dwarf had apparently heard nothing, and he wasn't looking in Raistlin's direction. The mage stood up and padded softly over. Kneeling down beside the gully dwarf, he laid his hand on her shoulder "What is it, little one?"
Bupu rolled over to face him. Her eyes were red her nose swollen. Tears streaked down her dirty face. She snuffled and wiped her hand across her nose. "I don't want to leave you I want to go with you," she said brokenly, "but-oh-I will miss my people!" Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands.
A look of infinite tenderness touched Raistlin's face a look no one in his world would ever see. He reached out and stroked Bupu s coarse hair, knowing what it felt like to be weak and miserable, an object of ridicule and pity.
"Bupu," he said, "you have been a good and true friend to me. You saved my life and the lives of those I care about. Now you will do one last thing for me, little one. Go back I must travel roads that will be dark and dangerous before the end of my long journey. I cannot ask you to go with me»
Bupu lifted her head, her eyes brightening. Then a shadow tell across her face. "But you will be unhappy without me."
No, Raistlin said, smiling, "My happiness will lie in knowing you are safely back with your people."
"You sure?" Bupu asked anxiously.
"I am sure," Raistlin answered.
"Then I go." Bupu stood up. "But first, you take gift" She began to rummage around in her bag.
"No, little one," Raistlin began, remembering the dead lizard thats not necessary-" The words caught in his throat as he watched Bupu pull from her bag-a book! He stared in amazement, seeing the pale light of the chill morning illuminate silver runes on a night-blue leather binding.
Raistlin reached out a trembling hand. "The spellbook of Fistandantilus!" he breathed.
"You like?" Bupu said shyly.
"Yes little one!" Raistlin took the precious object in his hands and held it lovingly, stroking the leather. "Where-"
"I take from dragon," Bupu said, "when blue light shine. I glad you like. Now, I go. Find Highbulp Phudge I, the great" She slung her bag over her shoulder. Then she stopped and turned. "That cough-you sure you not want lizard cure?"
"No, thank you, little one," Raistlin said, rising.
Bupu looked at him sadly, then-greatly daring-she caught his hand in hers and kissed it swiftly. She turned away, her head bowed, sobbing bitterly.
Raistlin stepped forward. He laid his hand on her head. If I have any power at all, Great One, he said inside himself, power that has not yet been revealed to me, grant that this little one goes through her life in safety and happiness.
"Farewell, Bupu," he said softly.
She stared at him with wide, adoring eyes, then turned and ran off as fast as her floppy shoes would carry her.
"What was all that about?" Flint said, stumping over from the other side of the camp. "Oh," he added, seeing Bupu running off. "So you got rid of your pet gully dwarf."
Raistlin did not answer, but simply stared at Flint with a malevolence that made the dwarf shiver and walk hurriedly away.
The mage held the spellbook in his hands, admiring it. He longed to open it and revel in its treasures, but he knew that long weeks of study lay ahead of him before he could even read the new spells, much less acquire them. And with the spells would come more power! He sighed in ecstasy and hugged the book to his thin chest. Then he slipped it swiftly into his pack with his own spellbook. The others would be waking soon-let them wonder how he got the book.
Raistlin stood up, glancing out to the west, to his homeland, where the sky was brightening with the early morning sun.
Suddenly he stiffened. Then, dropping his pack, he ran across the camp and knelt down beside the half-elf.
"Tanis!" Raistlin hissed. "Wake up!"
Tanis woke and grabbed his dagger. "What-"
Raistlin pointed to the west.
Tanis blinked, trying to focus his sleep-scummed eyes. The view from the top of the mountain where they were camped was magnificent. He could see the tall trees give way to the grassy Plains. And beyond the Plains, snaking up into the sky-
"No!" Tanis choked. He gripped the mage. "No, it can't be!"
"Yes," Raistlin whispered. "Solace is burning."
BOOK 2
1
Night of the dragons
Tika wrung the rag out in the pail and watched, dully, as the water turned black. She threw the rag down on the bar and started to lift the bucket to carry it back to the kitchen to draw more water. Then she thought, why bother! Picking up the rag, she began to mop the tables again. When she thought Otik wasn't watching, she wiped her eyes with her apron.
But Otik was watching. His pudgy hands took hold of Tika's shoulders and gently turned her around. Tika gave a choking sob and laid her head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Tika sobbed, "but I can't get this clean!"
Otik knew, of course, that this wasn't the real reason the girl was weeping, but it came close. He patted her back gently. "I know, I know, child. Don't cry. I understand."
"It's this damn soot!" Tika wailed. "It covers everything with black and every day I scrub it up and the next day it's back. They keep burning and burning!"
"Don't worry about it, Tika," Otik said, stroking her hair. "Be thankful the Inn's in one piece-"
"Be thankful!" Tika pushed away from him, her face flushed. "No! I wish it had burned like everything else in Solace, then they wouldn't come in here! I wish it had burned! I wish it had burned!" Tika sank down at the table, sobbing uncontrollably. Otik hovered around her.
"I know, my dear, I know," he repeated, smoothing the puffy sleeves of the blouse Tika had taken such pride in keeping clean and white. Now it was dingy and covered with soot, like everything in the ravaged town.
The attack on Solace had come without warning. Even when the first pitiable refugees began to trickle into the town from the north, telling horror stories of huge, winged monsters, Hederick, the High Theocrat, assured the people of Solace that they were safe, their town would be spared. And the people believed him because they wanted to believe him.