“I hope this is a hidden door like that other one,” said Caramon. “Otherwise we’ve come all this way for nothing.”
“You have no faith in me, do you, Pheragas?” Raistlin murmured. Holding his staff to light his task, he began to search the wall for marks.
“Who is this Pheragas?” Caramon muttered.
“Probably better you don’t know,” Sturm said grimly.
“Found it!” Raistlin announced. He pointed, and there was the same mark that they had seen on the door at the other end—the dwarven rune for ‘door.’
He pressed on the rune. As before, the mark depressed, sliding into the wall. There came a grinding sound, then a cracking sound as the stone separated, forming the outline of a doorway. This time the mechanism worked. The heavy door rumbled back so fast that it almost ran Raistlin down, and he was forced to scramble out of its way in a flurry of red robes, causing Sturm to pull at his mustaches to hide his smile.
The heavy door rumbled and screeched on the rusted tracks and flattened itself against the wall with a resounding boom that echoed back down the passageway.
“Nothing like announcing our arrival,” Sturm remarked.
“Hush!” Raistlin held up his hand.
“It’s a little late for that,” Caramon said, with a wink at Sturm. Raistlin glared at him. “Take off your helm and you might find your brain inside! The sounds I hear are coming from out there.” He pointed through the opening of the tunnel and, now that the echoes had faded, they could hear harsh shouts and the clash of arms.
Caramon and Sturm both drew their swords. Raistlin reached into his pouch.
“Dulak,” he murmured, and the glow from his staff blinked out, leaving only Sturm’s torch to light the way.
“What did you do that for?” Sturm demanded, adding grudgingly, “Much as I hate to admit it, we could use that light of yours.”
“It is never wise to proclaim to your enemies that you are a wizard,” Raistlin said quietly.
“Magic works best by stealth and darkness, is that it?” Sturm said.
“C’mon, you two, cut it out,” Caramon said.
They stood unmoving, listening to the sounds of battle that were distant, far away.
“Someone else is interested in the secrets of Skullcap,” Sturm said at last. Raistlin stirred at this. “I’m going to go find out what is happening. You two can stay here.”
“No,” said Sturm. “We all go together.”
Moving cautiously, holding his torch in one hand and his sword in the other, Sturm walked through the door. Raistlin came after him and Caramon brought up the rear, keeping a look-out over his shoulder.
Traveling down the dark tunnel, Tasslehoff Burrfoot reached the conclusion that if he never saw another rock in his life, it would be too soon. At first, tramping along a secret tunnel underneath a mountain was exciting. A skeletal warrior might be lurking just around the corner, ready to leap out and throttle them. A wight might decide to try to suck out their souls, or whatever it was that wights did to people.
Tika, on the other hand, didn’t appear to find the tunnel in the least exciting. She was nervous and unhappy.
Tas considered it his duty to try keep up her spirits and so he livened the journey by telling her all the gruesome, creepy, scary stories he’d ever heard about the things that lived in secret tunnels underneath mountains. Far from having the desired effect, the stories seemed to simply plunge Tika deeper in gloom. Once she actually turned around and tried to smack the kender. Accustomed to this sort of behavior in his companions, Tas ducked in time. He decided to change the subject.
“How long do you suppose we’ve been walking, Tika?”
“Weeks, I should imagine,” she said glumly.
“I think it’s only been a few hours,” Tas said.
“Oh, what do you know?” she snapped.
“I know it certainly is boring,” said the kender. He kicked at a rock, sent it bounding over the stone floor. “Do we have any more food left?”
“You just ate!”
“That seems like days ago!” Tas waved his arms. “You said yourself we’ve been walking for weeks…”
“Oh, shut up—” Tika began then froze in place.
A hideous sound thundered down the passageway—a loud rumbling, accompanied by shrill screeching. The ground shook, and dust fell from the walls. The rumbling and screeching lasted for several heart-thudding moments, then ended abruptly.
“What… what was that?” Tika quavered.
Tas reflected. “I think it was a Stalig Mite.” he said in hushed tones.
“A what kind of mite?” Tika whispered, her hands shaking so that the flame of the torch bounced all over the cavern.
“A Stalig Mite,” Tas said solemnly. “I’ve heard stories about them. They live in caves, and they’re huge and quite ferocious. I’m sorry to tell you this, Tika, but you should prepare yourself for the worst. That sound we heard was probably the Stalig Mite devouring Caramon.”
“No!” Tika cried wildly. “I don’t believe—” She paused, eying the kender. “Wait a minute. I’ve never heard of a Stalig Mite.”
“You should really get out more, Tika.”
“You mean stalagmite!” Tika was so mad she very nearly threw the torch at him.
“That’s what I said.” Tas was hurt. “Stalig Mite. Found only in caves.”
“A stalagmite is a rock formation found in caves, you doorknob! What do you mean scaring me like that?” Tika wiped sweat from her forehead.
“Are you sure?” Tas was loathe to give up the idea of a ferocious man-eating Stalig Mite.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Tika sounded very cross.
“Well, if that noise wasn’t made by a Stalig Mite devouring Caramon, then what was it?” Tas asked practically.
Tika had no answer for that, and she wished he hadn’t brought it up. She turned around. “Maybe we should go back…”
“We’ve been back, Tika,” Tas pointed out. “We know what’s back there—a lot of very dark darkness—and we don’t know what’s up ahead. Maybe Caramon hasn’t been eaten by a rock formation, but he and his brother could still be in trouble and need our help. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we—you and I—rescued Caramon and Raistlin? They’d respect us then. No more pulling my topknot or slapping my hand when all I wanted to do was to touch his stupid old staff.”
Tika envisioned Raistlin humbled and meek, thanking her profusely for saving his life, and Caramon hugging her tightly, telling her over and over how proud he was of her. Tas was right. Behind them was nothing but darkness.
Fearful but resolute, Tika continued on her way through the tunnel, accompanied by Tasslehoff, who was hoping Tika turned out to be wrong about the Stalig Mites.
Chapter 12
Death in the Darkness. A Ghostly Messenger.
Sturm had taken only a few steps into the room beyond before he found his way blocked by a heavy beam that had fallen down from the ceiling. Standing in the small pool of light cast by his torch, he saw that he’d encountered destruction so complete he could make out few details of what it was he was even looking at. Fire had swept the room. The floor was ankle-deep in debris, most of it blackened and burnt. Charred lumps might have once been furniture. Sturm circled around the heavy beam, kicking aside debris, and found another doorway.
“The sounds are coming from out here,” he called back softly to his friends.
“From the armory,” said Raistlin. “I know where I am now. This was the library What a pity it did not survive!”
He bent down to pick up the remnants of a book. The pages fell out in a shower of ash. The leather cover was all that remained and it was scorched, the corners blackened and curled.
“What a pity,” Raistlin repeated softly.
He dropped the book and looked up to find Sturm staring at him “Armory? Library? How do you know so much about this accursed place?” asked the knight.