‘Gilthanas!’ Tanis shouted. ‘The Inn! It’s under attack!’
Gilthanas raised glassy eyes and stared uncomprehendingly. Then, apparently understanding, he sighed and shook his head. ‘Laurana,’ he gasped, and he pushed himself forward, trying to stagger out of the doorway. ‘We’ve got to reach them.’ He collapsed in Tanis’s arms.
‘Stay here,’ the half-elf said, helping him sit down. ‘You’re not capable of moving. I’ll try and get through. I’ll go around the block and come in from the back.’
Tanis ran forward, darting in and out of doorways, hiding in the wreckage. He was about a block from the Inn when he heard a hoarse shout. Turning to look, he saw Flint gesturing wildly. Tanis dashed across the street.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
The dwarf, his face smudged with ash and streaked with tears, knelt beside Tasslehoff. The kender was pinned beneath a beam that had fallen in the street. Tas’s face, looking like the face of a wise child, was ashen, his skin clammy.
‘Blasted, rattle-brained kender,’ Flint moaned. ‘Had to go and let a house fall on him.’ The dwarf’s hands were torn and bleeding from trying to lift a beam that would take three men or one Caramon to get off the kender. Tanis put his hand to Tas’s neck. The lifebeat was very weak.
‘Stay with him!’ Tanis said unnecessarily. ‘I’m going to the Inn. I’ll bring Caramon!’
Flint looked up at him grimly, then glanced over at the Inn. Both could hear the yells of the draconians, see their weapons flash in the glare of the firelight. Occasionally an unnatural light flared from the Inn—Raistlin’s magic. The dwarf shook his head. He knew Tanis was about as capable of returning with Caramon as he was of flying.
But Flint managed to smile. ‘Sure, lad, I’ll stay with him. Farewell, Tanis.’
Tanis swallowed, tried to answer, then gave up and ran on down the street.
Raistlin, coughing until he could barely stand, wiped blood from his lips and drew a small, black leather pouch from the innermost pockets of his robes. He had just one spell left and barely energy enough to cast it. Now, his hands shaking with fatigue, he tried to scatter the contents of the little pouch into a pitcher of wine he had ordered Caramon to bring him before the battle started. But his hand trembled violently, and his coughing spasms doubled him over.
Then he felt another hand grasp his own. Looking up, he saw Laurana. She took the pouch from his frail fingers. Her own hand was stained with the dark green draconian blood.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘Ingredients for a spell.’ The mage choked. ‘Pour it into the wine.’
Laurana nodded and poured in the mixture as instructed. It vanished instantly.
‘Don’t drink it,’ the mage warned when the coughing spasm passed.
Laurana looked at him. ‘What is it?’
‘A sleeping potion,’ Raistlin whispered, his eyes glittering.
Laurana smiled wryly. ‘You don’t think we’re going to be able to get to sleep tonight?’
‘Not that kind,’ Raistlin answered, staring at her intently. ‘This one feigns death. The heartbeat slows to almost nothing, the breathing nearly stops, the skin grows cold and pale, the limbs stiffen.’
Laurana’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why—’ she began.
‘To be used as a last resort. The enemy thinks you are dead, leaves you on the field—if you are lucky. If not—’
‘If not?’ she prompted, her face pale.
‘Well, a few have been known to waken on their own funeral pyres,’ Raistlin said coolly. ‘I don’t believe that is likely to happen to us, however.’
Breathing more easily, he sat down, ducking involuntarily as a spent arrow fluttered overhead and fell to the floor behind him. He saw Laurana’s hand tremble then and realized she was not as calm as she was forcing herself to appear.
‘Are you intending that we take this?’ she asked.
‘It will save us from being tortured by draconians.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Trust me,’ the mage said with a slight smile.
Laurana glanced at him and shivered. Absently, she wiped blood-stained fingers on her leather armor. The blood did not come off, but she didn’t notice. An arrow thudded next to her. She didn’t even start, just stared at it dully.
Caramon appeared, stumbling out of the smoke of the burning common room. He was bleeding from an arrow wound in the shoulder, his own red blood mingling oddly with the green blood of his enemy.
‘They’re breaking down the front door,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Riverwind ordered us back here.’
‘Listen!’ Raistlin warned. ‘That’s not the only place they’re breaking in!’ There was a splintering crash at the door leading from the kitchen to the back alley.
Ready to defend themselves, Caramon and Laurana whirled just as the door shattered. A tall, dark figure entered.
‘Tanis!’ Laurana cried. Sheathing her weapon, she ran toward him.
‘Laurana!’ he breathed. Catching her in his arms, he held her close, nearly sobbing in his relief. Then Caramon flung his huge arms around both of them.
‘How is everyone?’ Tanis asked, when he could talk.
‘So far, so good,’ Caramon said, peering behind Tanis. His face fell when he saw he was alone. ‘Where’s—’
‘Sturm’s lost,’ Tanis said wearily. ‘Flint and Tas are across the street. The kender’s pinned under a beam. Gilthanas is about two blocks away. He’s hurt,’ Tanis told Laurana, ‘not badly, but he couldn’t make it any farther.’
‘Welcome, Tanis,’ Raistlin whispered, coughing. ‘You have come in time to die with us.’
Tanis looked at the pitcher, saw the black pouch lying near it, and stared at Raistlin in sudden shock.
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘We’re not going to die. At least not like th—’ he broke off abruptly. ‘Get everyone together.’
Caramon lumbered off, yelling at the top of his lungs. Riverwind ran in from the common room where he had been firing the enemy’s arrows back at them, his own having run out long ago. The others followed him, smiling hopefully at Tanis.
The sight of their faith in him infuriated the half-elf. Someday, he thought, I’m going to fail them. Maybe I already have. He shook his head angrily.
‘Listen!’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the draconians outside. ‘We can try and escape out the back! Only a small force is attacking the Inn. The main part of the army isn’t in the city yet.’
‘Somebody’s after us,’ Raistlin murmured.
Tanis nodded. ‘So it would appear. We haven’t much time. If we can make it into the hills—’
He suddenly fell silent, raising his head. They all fell silent, listening, recognizing the shrill scream, the creak of giant leather wings, coming nearer and nearer.
‘Take cover!’ Riverwind yelled. But it was too late.
There was a screaming whine and a boom. The Inn, three stories tall and built of stone and wood, shook as if it were made of sand and sticks. The air exploded with dust and debris. Flames erupted outside. Above them, they could hear the sound of wood splitting and breaking, the thud of falling timber. The building began to collapse in on itself.
The companions watched in stunned fascination—paralyzed by the sight of the gigantic ceiling beams shuddering beneath the strain as the roof caved in onto the upper floors.
‘Get out!’ Tanis shouted. ‘The whole place is—’
The beam directly above the half-elf gave a great groan, then split and cracked. Gripping Laurana around the waist, Tanis flung her as far from him as he could and saw Elistan, standing near the front of the Inn, catch her in his arms.
As the huge beam above Tanis gave way with a shuddering snap, he heard the mage shriek strange words. Then he was falling, falling into blackness—and it seemed that the world fell on top of him.
Sturm rounded a corner to see the Inn of the Red Dragon collapse in a cloud of flame and smoke as a dragon soared in the sky above it. The knight’s heart beat wildly with grief and fear.