“I just want to remind all of you who it was who freed you from Pax Tharkas,” Tika told them, “who saved you from slavery and death. It wasn’t him, the High Theocrat.” She cast a scathing glance at Hederick. “It was Tanis Half-Elven and Flint Fireforge, and they’ve gone to try to find Thorbardin. It was Sturm Brightblade, Caramon Majere, and Raistlin Majere, and they’ve gone, at great peril, to Skullcap, where they’ve found a way to enter Thorbardin. It was Riverwind and Goldmoon, who showed you how to survive and healed your hurts.
“They didn’t have to do this, any of them. They could have gone off long ago, returned to their homeland, but they didn’t. They stayed here and risked their lives to help you. I know it will be hard to leave, but… but I just want you to think about that.”
Many did think about it and made their arguments accordingly, speaking out in favor of departing. Others were not so certain. Riverwind allowed the discussion to flow freely, but when the same arguments were being presented time and again, he called a halt.
“My mind is made up. Each of you must do the same. My wife and I and those who are going with us should be ready to depart the day after tomorrow with the first light.” He paused a moment, then added, “The way will be difficult and dangerous, and I cannot promise you that we will find safe haven in Thorbardin or anywhere in this world, for that matter. I can promise you one thing: I pledge my life to you. I will do all I can to stand between you and darkness. I will fight to defend you until the last breath leaves my body.” He left the meeting hall amid silence. His people and Gilthanas accompanied him. Tika insisted on going back to her own cave, saying she would rest better in her bed.
The people gathered around Elistan, seeking his advice and reassurance. Many wanted him to make their decisions for them—should they stay or go? This he would not do, but he insisted that each person must make up his or her own mind. He advised them repeatedly to take their cares and concerns to the gods, and he was gratified to see some go to the altar. Others, however, stalked off in a huff, demanding to know what good were gods who could not tell them what to do?
Laurana remained by his side, patiently assisting him, offering her own reassurances and advice. When the last person left, she felt utterly drained and dejected.
“I never understood before how anyone could knowingly worship an evil god. Now I do,” she said to Elistan. “If you were a cleric of Takhisis, you would promise these people everything they ever wanted. Your promises would come at a terrible price and they would not be kept, but that wouldn’t matter. People refuse to take responsibility for their own lives. They want someone to tell them what to do, and they want someone to blame when it all goes wrong.”
“We are in the early days yet of the gods’ return, Laurana,” said Elistan. “Our people are like blind men who can suddenly see again. The light blinds them as much or more than the darkness. Give them time.”
“Time—the one thing we don’t have,” Laurana said with a sigh.
In the end, most of the people decided to go with Riverwind. The terror of the dragons flying over their camp did as much to convince them to leave as any of his arguments. Hederick and his followers, however, let it be known that they planned to stay.
“We will be here waiting to welcome those who turn back,” Hederick announced, adding in ominous tones, “Those who survive…”
Riverwind worked tirelessly that day and long into the night and all the next day, answering questions, assisting people to decide what to take, helping them pack. The refugees had made the hard journey from Pax Tharkas to the valley, and they knew already what they would need for the road. Even little children made up their small bundles.
Riverwind could not sleep the night before the departure. He lay awake, staring into the darkness, doubting himself, doubting his decision, until Goldmoon took him in her arms. He kissed her and held her, and matching his breathing to hers, he fell asleep.
Riverwind was up before dawn. The people emerged from their caves in the half-darkness, greeting friends or scolding children, who viewed this departure as a holiday and were behaving with untoward exuberance. Hederick made an appearance, sighing a great deal and bidding people farewell with a mournful air, as though he could already see them dead on the trail. Riverwind could sense a few people starting to waver in their decisions, and he was determined to set off the moment there was the faintest light in the sky, before they had a chance to change their minds. His scouts had picked up Tanis’s blazed trail, and they reported that the first part of the journey would be easy; that would help boost people’s spirits and give them confidence. The day dawned bright and sunny. Just before they started, scouts returned with news that the dwarf’s trail led to a hitherto unnoticed pass between the mountains. Riverwind studied the crude map Flint had drawn up for him and the scouts agreed that his map matched with what they had found. Looking at the map, Riverwind recalled the dwarf’s last enigmatic command—bring along pick-axes. Though this meant an added burden for some, he followed the dwarf’s order. The people cheered at news that a pass had been discovered, taking it for a good omen for the future. The refugees set forth quietly, without undue fuss or bother. Their harsh lives had innured them to hardship. They were accustomed to physical exertion; they had walked miles to reach this place, and they were prepared to walk many more miles. They were in good health. Mishakal had healed their sick. Even Tika was almost back to normal. Laurana noted that her friend was unusually somber and silent and chose to walk by herself, eschewing any offer of company. The wounds of the body had healed; the wounds of the heart were deeper, and not even a goddess could remedy those.
The sun shone. The day grew warm, with just enough chill in the air to keep the exertion of hiking from overheating anyone. Maritta started singing a marching song, and soon everyone joined in. The refugees made good time, trudging along the trail at a steady pace. Riverwind felt his burden ease.
That night, after the refugees’ departure, Hederick the High Theocrat sat alone in his cave. He had spent the day regaling those of his followers who had chosen to stay with some of his best speeches. Fewer had chosen to stay han he’d expected, and they had heard all Hederick’s harangues before. As darkness fell, they made some excuse to slip away, either going to their beds or gathering by the firelight to play black dots—a gambling game in which white tiles marked with black dots are arranged in various number patterns. Since the High Theocrat had laid down a strict injunction against wagering, the men thought it best to keep their game secret. Hederick found himself alone without an audience. The night was quiet, unbelievably quiet. He was accustomed to the noise and bustle of the campsite, accustomed to walking around the camp being important. All that was gone now. Though he had taken care not to show it, he was irate that so few people had trusted him enough to stay, choosing instead to go off into the unknown with a crude, uneducated savage. Hederick told himself they would be sorry.
Now that he was alone with time to think, he was the one who was sorry. He sat in the darkness and wondered uneasily what would happen to him if that silly barmaid should turn out to be right.
Chapter 17
No shadows. Too Many shadows. A Dwarf’s Dreams.
The same sunshine that warmed the hearts and spirits of the refugees shone in the sky above Caramon, Raistlin, Sturm, and Tas. The sun brought no warmth or cheer to any of these four, however. They walked a land barren and wasted, a devastated land, bleak, empty, and desolate. They walked the Plains of Dergoth. They had all thought nothing could be worse than wading through the swamp surrounding Skullcap. The water stank of rot and decay. They had no idea what sort of creatures could live beneath the slime-covered water, but something did. They could tell by the ripples on the surface, or sudden dartings around their feet, that they had disturbed some species of swampy denizen. They had to keep close together or lose sight of each other in the thick mists. They were forced to move slowly, with a shuffling gait, to avoid snags and dead branches hidden beneath the water.