Another bird called, much nearer now. Then the hair rose on Tasslehoff's neck as the same bird call sounded from right behind him. The kender turned to see Gilthanas on his feet, his fingers to his lips, an eerie whistle splitting the air.
"Tanis!" Tas yelled, but the half-elf was already awake. So was everyone in the cart.
Fizban sat up, yawned, and glanced around. "Oh, good," he said mildly, "the elves are here."
"What elves-where?" Tanis sat up.
There was a sudden whirring sound like a covey of quail taking flight. A cry rang out from the supply wagon in front of them, then there was a splintering sound as the wagon, now driverless, lurched into a rut and tipped over. The driver of their cage wagon pulled sharply on the reins, stopping the elk before they ran into the wrecked supply wagon. The cage tipped precariously, sending the prisoners sprawling. The driver got the elk going again and guided them around the wreckage.
Suddenly the driver of the cage screamed and clutched at his neck where the companions saw the feathered shaft of an arrow silhouetted against the dimly lit morning sky. The driver's body tumbled from the seat. The other guard stood up, sword raised, then he, too, toppled forward with an arrow in his chest. The elk, reeling the reins go slack, slowed until the cage rolled to a halt. Cries and screams echoed up and down the caravan as arrows whizzed through the air.
The companions fell for cover face first on the floor of the cage.
"What is it? What's going on?" Tanis asked Gilthanas.
But the elf, ignoring him, peered through the dawn gloom into the forest. "Porthios!" he called.
"Tanis, what's happening?" Sturm sat up, speaking his first words in four days.
"Porthios is Gilthanas's brother. I take it this is a rescue," Tanis said. An arrow zipped past and lodged in the wooden side of the cart, narrowly missing the knight.
"It won't be much of a rescue if we end up dead!" Sturm dropped to the floor. "I thought elves were expert marksmen!"
"Keep low." Gilthanas ordered. "The arrows are only to cover our escape. This is a strike-and-run raid. My people are not capable of attacking a large body directly. We must be ready to run for the woods."
"And how do we get out of these cages?" Sturm demanded.
"We cannot do everything for you!" Gilthanas replied coldly. "There are magic-users-"
"I cannot work without my spell components!" Raistlin hissed from beneath a bench. "Keep down. Old One," he said to Fizban who, head raised, was looking around with interest.
"Perhaps I can help," the old magician said, his eyes brightening. "Now, let me think-"
"What in the name of the Abyss is going on?" roared a voice out of the darkness. Fewmaster Toede appeared, galloping on his pony. "Why have we stopped?"
"We under attack!" Sestun cried, crawling out from under the cage where he'd taken cover.
"Attack? BIyxtshok! Get this cart moving!" Toede shouted. An arrow thunked into the Fewmaster's saddle. Toede's red eyes flew open and he stared fearfully into the woods. "We're under attack! Elves! Trying to free the prisoners!"
"Driver and guard dead!" Sestun shouted, flattening himself against the cage as another arrow just missed him. "What me do?"
An arrow zipped over Toede's head. Ducking, he had to clutch his pony's neck to keep himself from falling off. "I'll get another driver," he said hastily. "You stay here. Guard these prisoners with your life! I'll hold you responsible if they escape."
The Fewmaster stuck his spurs into his pony and the fear crazed animal leaped forward. "My guard! Hobgoblins! To me!" the Fewmaster yelled as he galloped to the rear of the line.
His shouts echoed back. "Hundreds of elves! We're surrounded. Charge to the north! I must report this to Lord Verminaard." Toede reined in at the sight of a draconian captain. "You draconians tend to the prisoners!" He spurred his horse on, still shouting, and one hundred hobgoblins charged after their valiant leader away from the battle. Soon, they were completely out of sight.
"Well, that takes care of the hobgoblins," Sturm said, his face relaxing in a smile. "Now all we have left to worry about is fifty or so draconians. I don't suppose, by the way, that there are hundreds of elves out there?"
Gilthanas shook his head. "More like twenty."
Tika, lying flat on the floor, cautiously raised her head and looked south. In the pale morning light, she could see the hulking forms of the draconians about a mile ahead, leaping into the cover on either side of the road as the elven archers moved down to fire into their ranks. She touched Tanis's arm, pointing.
"We've got to get out of this cage," Tanis said, looking back. "The draconians won't bother taking us to Pax Tharkas now that the Fewmaster's gone. They'll just butcher us in these cages. Caramon?"
"I'll try," the fighter rumbled. He stood and gripped the bars of the cage in his huge hands. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and tried to force the bars apart. His face reddened, the muscles in his arms bunched, the knuckles on his big hands turned white. It was useless. Gasping for breath, Caramon flattened himself on the floor.
"Sestun!" Tasslehoff cried. "Your axe! Break the lock!"
The gully dwarf's eyes opened wide. He stared at the companions, then he glanced down the trail the Fewmaster had taken. His face twisted in an agony of indecision.
"Sestun-" Tasslehoff began. An arrow zinged past the kender. The draconians behind them were moving forward, firing into the cages. Tas flattened himself on the floor. "Sestun," he began again, "help free us and you can come with us!"
A look of firm resolve hardened Sestun's features. He reached for his axe, which he wore strapped onto his back. The companions watched in nailbiting frustration as Sestun felt all around his shoulders for the axe, which was located squarely in the middle of his back. Finally, one hand discovered the handle and he pulled the axe out. The blade glinted in the gray light of dawn.
Flint saw it and groaned. "That axe is older than I am! It must date back to the Cataclysm! He probably couldn't cut through a kender's brain, let alone that lock!"
"Hush!" Tanis instructed, although his own hopes sank at the sight of the gully dwarf's weapon. It wasn't even a battle-axe, just a small, battered, rusty woodcutting axe the gully dwarf had apparently picked up somewhere, thinking it was a weapon. Sestun tucked the axe between his knees and spat on his hands.
Arrows thunked and clattered around the bars of the cage. One struck Caramon's shield. Another pinned Tika's blouse to the side of the cage, grazing her arm. Tika couldn't remember being more terrified in her life-not even the night dragons struck Solace. She wanted to scream, she wanted Caramon to put his arm around her. But Caramon didn't dare move.
Tika caught sight of Goldmoon, shielding the injured Theros with her body, her face pale but calm. Tika pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath. Grimly she yanked the arrow out of the wood and tossed it to the floor, ignoring the stinging pain in her arm. Looking south, she saw that the draconians, momentarily confused by the sudden attack and the disappearance of Toede, were organized now, on their feet and running toward the cages. Their arrows filled the air. Their chest armor gleamed in the dim gray light of morning, so did the bright steel of their longswords, which they carried clamped in their jaws as they ran.
"Draconians, closing in," she reported to Tanis, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"Hurry, Sestun!" Tanis shouted.
The gully dwarf gripped the axe, swung it with all his might, and missed the lock, striking the iron bars a blow that nearly jarred the axe from his hands. Shrugging apologetically, he swung again. This time he struck the lock.