Tas poked his head out of the hole and immediately ducked down again.
“Draconians!” Tas whispered. “Lots of them, standing on the ground below us.” They both held very still, then Tas started to raise himself up again.
“What are you doing!” Tika gasped, tugging on his breeches. “They’ll see you!”
“No, they won’t,” Tas said. “We’re up above them. Come on. You can look.” Tika didn’t like it, but she had to see for herself. She edged her head cautiously out of the hole. The draconians were gathered at the base of the ruined fortress on one of the few dry patches of ground available. A foul-smelling, evil-looking swamp surrounded them. The gray clouds roiling above turned out not to be clouds at all, but a thick mist rising from dark and putrid waters. The draconians stood in a group around a draconian who appeared to be their leader. He was larger than the others, his scales were a different color, and he was issuing orders. His voice was deep and loud, and they could hear him quite clearly.
“Tika!” said Tas, excited. “I can speak draconian! I know what he’s saying.”
“I know what he’s saying, too,” said Tika. “He’s speaking Common.” The two listened and watched. Then Tika said softly, “Come on! We have to go tell the others!”
“Shouldn’t we wait to hear more?”
“We’ve heard enough.” Tika said.
She began to scrabble back down the shaft. Tas listened a moment longer, then he followed.
“You know, Tika,” said Tas, when they reached the cat walk. “It’s good we came, after all.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Tika said.
Chapter 14
Bad News. Who’s Going To Go Back?
“Raistlin! Caramon! Sturm! There’s a draconian army right outside!” Tas announced, bursting into the armory.
“The draconians are planning to attack our people in the valley!” Tika was saying at the same time. “We heard the big one telling his soldiers! The attack is coming from Pax Tharkas.”
“We found out because I can understand draconian now.” Tas raised his voice to be heard above Tika. “Say, why is Sturm wearing that funny-looking helm?”
Raistlin glared at them. “I can’t understand a word either of you is saying. One person talks at a time!”
“Tas,” Tika ordered, “go keep watch in the corridor.”
“But Tika—”
She glared at him, and Tasslehoff departed.
Tika repeated what they’d overheard, adding, “These draconians are part of a larger force. They’ve been posted here to make sure that our people don’t come this way. It’s a good thing Tas and I came,” she said, with a defiant glance at Raistlin, “otherwise we wouldn’t have found out about the danger the refugees are in.”
Raistlin looked at Caramon, who sighed and shook his head.
“This makes things difficult,” said Raistlin.
“What? How? I don’t understand,” Tika said.
This was not the reception she had been expecting.
She had hoped that Caramon would be pleased with her. Well, maybe not pleased, because her news was very bad, the worst news possible, but he could at least be pleased that she and Tas had found out about the attack in time to prevent it.
Caramon only stood there looking troubled and unhappy. Raistlin’s lips were tightly compressed. She couldn’t tell how Sturm looked because he was wearing some sort of odd-looking helm that covered his face. All in all, Tika realized, everyone was acting very strangely.
“What’s the matter with you? We should get started right away. Right now. And why is Sturm wearing that funny looking helm?”
“She’s right, Raist,” said Caramon. “We should go back.”
“What will the refugees do once we have warned them?” Raistlin demanded. “Where can they go that is safe?” He glanced at Sturm. “Thorbardin.”
“Of course, we must go to Thorbardin,” Sturm said, and he sounded impatient. “We have delayed long enough. I’m leaving. If you’re coming with me, humans, then come.” He started to walk out the door. Raistlin hurriedly intervened, stepping in front of him, and laying his hand on the knight’s arm. “We plan to go with you, Your Highness, but there is an emergency we must deal with first. If you will just be patient a moment longer…”
“Your Highness!” Tika stared at Sturm, then she said in a low voice to Caramon, “Did he get hit on the head again?”
“It’s a long story,” said Caramon bleakly.
“Let me put it this way,” said Raistlin dryly. “Sturm is not himself.” He looked back at his brother. “We must go with the knight to Thorbardin. We may never have another chance to find the dwarven kingdom.”
“No, we have to go back to camp,” Tika insisted.
“Riverwind is aware that an attack is possible,” Raistlin said. “He will be ready for it, if it comes.”
“Why can’t we do both?” Caramon asked. “We take Prince Grallen here with us back to camp. Then the prince can lead the refugees to Thorbardin. Problem solved.”
“Prince Grallen? Who’s Prince Grallen?” Tika asked, but no one answered her.
“An excellent idea, but it won’t work,” Raistlin said flatly.
“Sure it will,” said Caramon.
“Try and see,” said Raistlin, shrugging. “Tell Prince Grallen.” Caramon, looking extremely uncomfortable, walked over to where Sturm stood by the door, tapping his foot restlessly on the floor. “Your Highness, we are planning to go to Thorbardin, but first we’re going to make a little side trip. We have some friends who are trapped in a valley to the north—”
Sturm drew back. He glared at Caramon from out of the helm’s eye slits. “North! We do not travel north. Our way lies east across the Dergoth Plains. I would have been grateful to have your company, human, but if you go north, you go alone.”
“I told you so,” said Raistlin.
Caramon sighed deeply.
“What’s wrong with Sturm?” Tika asked, frightened. “Why is he talking like that?”
“The helm’s possessed him,” said Caramon. “He thinks he’s a dwarven prince who lived three hundred years ago. He’s dead set on going to Thorbardin.”
“The helm will not let him do anything else,” said Raistlin. “There is no reasoning with the enchantment.”
“What if we knocked him out, tied him up and dragged him?” Tika asked. Caramon was horrified. “Tika, this is Sturm we’re talking about.”
“Well, apparently it isn’t,” Tika snapped. “It’s Prince Something-or-other.” She didn’t understand any of this, but she was understanding enough to see where this conversation was headed, and she didn’t like it. “Caramon Majere, our friends are in danger! We can’t just abandon them!”
“I know,” he replied unhappily. “I know.”
“I doubt if we could knock him out,” Raistlin observed. “The helm will act to protect him from harm. If we tried to attack him, he would fight us and someone would get hurt. Just because Sturm thinks he is a dwarf prince doesn’t mean he has lost the ability to use his sword.” Tika interposed herself between Raistlin and Caramon. She turned her back on Raistlin, faced Caramon, her arms akimbo, her red curls quivering, her green eyes glittering.
“Thorbardin or no Thorbardin, prince or no prince, someone has to warn Riverwind and the others! You and I should go back, Caramon. Your brother and Sturm can travel to Thorbardin.”
“Yes, Caramon,” said Raistlin in dulcet tones. “Run along with your girlfriend. Leave me to make my way across the accursed Plains of Dergoth in company with a knight who thinks he’s a dwarf. We will both die, of course, and our mission will fail, but you two will undoubtedly enjoy yourselves.”