The kender bent down, tracing the runes with his small hand. "What does it say, Raistlin? Can you read it? The language seems very old."
"It is old," the mage whispered. "It dates from before the Cataclysm. The runes say, 'The Great City of Xak Tsaroth, whose beauty Surrounds you, speaks to the good of its people and their generous deeds. The gods reward us in the grace of our home.»
"How awful!" Goldmoon shuddered, looking at the ruin and desolation around her.
"The gods rewarded them indeed," Raistlin said, his lips parting in a cynical smile. No one spoke. Then Raistlin whispered,
"Durakc" and extinguished the light. Suddenly the night seemed much blacker. "We must keep going," the mage said. "Surely there is more than a fallen monument to mark what this place once stood for."
They crossed the obelisk into thick jungle. At first there seemed to be no trail, then Riverwind, searching diligently, found a trail cut through the vines and the trees. He bent down to study it. His face was grim when he rose.
"Draconians?" Tanis asked.
"Yes," he said heavily. "The tracks of many clawed feet. And they lead north, straight to the city."
Tanis asked in an undertone, "Is this the broken city-where you were given the staff?"
"And where death had black wings," Riverwind added. He closed his eyes, wiping his hand over his face. Then he drew a deep, ragged breath. "I don't know. I can't remember-but I am afraid without knowing why."
Tanis put his hand on Riverwind's arm. "The elves have a saying, 'Only the dead are without fear.»
Riverwind startled him by suddenly clasping the half-elf's hand with his. "I have never known an elf," the Plainsman said. "My people distrust them, saying that the elves have no care for Krynn or for humans. I think my people may have been mistaken. I am glad I met you, Tanis of Qualinost. I count you as a friend."
Tanis knew enough of Plains lore to realize that, with this statement, Riverwind had declared himself willing to sacrifice everything for the half-elf-even his life. A vow of friendship was a solemn vow among the Plainsmen. "You are my friend, too, Riverwind," Tanis said simply. "You and Goldmoon both are my friends."
Riverwind turned his eyes to Goldmoon who stood near them, leaning on her staff, her eyes closed, her face drawn with pain and exhaustion. Riverwind's face softened with compassion as he looked at her. Then it hardened, pride drawing the stem mask over it again.
"Xak Tsaroth is not far off," he said coolly. "And these tracks are old." He led the way into the jungle. After only a short walk, the northern trail suddenly changed to cobblestones.
"A street!" exclaimed Tasslehoff.
"The outskirts of Xak Tsaroth!" Raistlin breathed.
"About time!" Flint stared all around in disgust. "What a mess! If the greatest gift ever given to man is here, it must be well hidden!"
Tanis agreed. He had never seen a more dismal place. As they walked, the broad street took them into an open paved courtyard. To the east stood four tall, free-standing columns that supported nothing; the building lay in ruins around them. A huge unbroken circular stone wall rose about four feet above the ground. Caramon, going over to inspect it, announced that it was a well.
"Deep at that," he said. He leaned over and peered down into it. "Smells bad, too."
North of the well stood what appeared to be the only building to have escaped the destruction of the Cataclysm. It was finely constructed of pure white stone, supported by tall, slender columns. Large golden double doors gleamed in the moonlight.
"That was a temple to the ancient gods," Raistlin said, more to himself than anyone else. But Goldmoon, standing near him, heard his soft whisper.
"A temple?" she repeated, staring at the building. "How beautiful." She walked toward it, strangely fascinated.
Tanis and the rest searched the grounds and found no other buildings intact. Fluted columns lay on the ground, their broken pieces aligned to show their former beauty. Statues lay broken and, in some cases, grotesquely defaced. Everything was old, so old it made even the dwarf feel young.
Flint sat down on a column. "Well, we're here." He blinked at Raistlin and yawned. "What now, mage?"
Raistlin's thin lips parted, but before he could reply, Tasslehoff yelled, "Draconian!"
Everyone spun around, weapons in their hands. A draconian, ready to move, was glaring at them from the edge of the well.
"Stop it!" Tani's shouted. "It will alert others!"
But before anyone could reach it, the draconian spread its wings and flew into the well. Raistlin, his golden eyes flaring in the moonlight, ran to the well and peered over the edge. Raising his hand as if to cast a spell, he hesitated, then dropped his hand limply to his side. "I can't," he said. "I can't think. I can't concentrate. I must sleep!"
"We're all tired," Tanis said wearily. "If something's down there, it warned it. There's nothing we can do now. We've got to rest."
"It has gone to warn something," Raistlin whispered. He huddled in his cloak and stared around, his eyes wide. "Can't you feel it? Any of you? Half-Elf? Evil about to waken and come forth."
Silence fell.
Then Tasslehoff climbed up on the stone wall and peered down. "Look! The draconian is floating down, just like a leaf. His wings don't flap-"
"Be quiet!" Tanis snapped.
Tasslehoff glanced at the half-elf in surprise-Tanis's voice sounded strained and unnatural. The half-elf was staring at the well, his hands clenching nervously. Everything was still. Too still. The storm clouds massed to the north, but there was no wind. Not a branch creaked, not a leaf stirred. The silver moon and the red cast twin shadows that made things seen from the corner of the eye unreal and distorted.
Then, slowly, Raistlin backed away from the well, raising his hands before him as if to ward off some dreadful danger.
"I feel it too." Tanis swallowed. "What is it?"
"Yes, what is it?" Tasslehoff, leaning over, stared eagerly into the well. It looked as deep and dark as the mage's hourglass eye.
"Get him away from there!" Raistlin cried.
Tanis, infected by the mage's fear and his own growing sense that something was terribly wrong, started to run for Tas. Even as he began to move, though, he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. The kender gave a startled cry as the ancient stone wall of the well cracked and gave way beneath him. Tas felt himself sliding into the terrible blackness below him. He scrabbled frantically with his hands and feet, trying to clutch the crumbling rocks. Tanis lunged desperately, but he was too far away.
Riverwind had started moving when he heard Raistlin's cry, and the tall man's long, swift strides carried him quickly to the well. Catching hold of Tas by his collar, the Plainsman plucked him from the wall just as the stones and mortar tumbled down into the blackness below.
The ground trembled again. Tanis tried to force his numb mind to figure out what was happening. Then a blast of cold air burst from the well. The wind swept dirt and leaves from the courtyard into the air, stinging his face and eyes.
"Run!" Tanis tried to yell, but he choked on the foul stench erupting from the well.
The columns left standing after the Cataclysm began to shake. The companions stared fearfully at the well. Then Riverwind tore his gaze away. "Goldmoon…" he said, looking around. He dropped Tas to the ground. "Goldmoon!" He stopped as a high-pitched shriek rose from the depths of the well. The sound was so loud and shrill that it pierced the head.
Riverwind searched frantically for Goldmoon, calling her name.
Tanis was stunned by the noise. Unable to move, he saw Sturm, hand on his sword, slowly back away from the well. He saw Raistlin-the mage's ghastly face glistening metallic yellow, his golden eyes red in the red moon's light-scream something Tanis couldn't hear. He saw Tasslehoff staring at the well in wide-eyed wonder. Sturm ran across the courtyard, scooped up the kender under one arm, and ran on to the trees. Caramon ran to his exhausted brother, caught him up, and headed for cover. Tanis knew some monstrous evil was coming up out of the well, but he could not move. The words "run, fool, run" screamed in his brain. Riverwind, too, stayed near the well, fighting the fear that was growing within him; he couldn't find Goldmoon! Distracted by rescuing the kender from tumbling into the well, he had not seen Goldmoon approach the unbroken temple. He looked around wildly, struggling to keep his balance as the ground shook beneath his feet. The high-pitched shrieking noise, the throbbing and trembling of the ground, brought back hideous, nightmarish memories. "Death on black wings." He began to sweat and shake, then forced his mind to concentrate on Goldmoon. She needed him; he knew-and he alone knew-that her show of strength only masked her fear, doubt, uncertainty. She would be terribly afraid, and he had to find her.