"We must enter the woods;' Raistlin said in a shaking voice. Turning, he stumbled toward the dark wilderness.
No one else spoke or moved. They stood an the bank, fear overtaking them. There was no reason for it, and it was all the more frightening because it was illogical. Fear crept up on them from the ground. Fear flowed through their limbs, turning the bowels to water, sapping the strength of heart and muscle, eating into the brain.
Fear o6 what? There was nothing, nothing there! Nothing to be afraid of, yet all of them were more terrified of this nothing than they had been of anything before in their lives.
"Raistlin's right. We've-got to-get into the woods-find shelter . . :' Tanis spoke with an effort, his teeth chattering. "Follow Raistlin :'
Shaking, he staggered forward, not knowing if anyone followed, not caring. Behind him, he could hear Tika whimper and Goodmoon trying to pro}^ through lips that would not form words. He heard Caramon shout for his brother to stop and Riverwind cry out in terror, but it didn't matter. He had to run, get away from here'. His only guidance was the light of Raistlin's staff.
Desperately, he stumbled after the mage into the woods. But when Tanis reached the trees, he found his strength was gone. He was too scared to move. Trembling, he sank down on his knees, then pitched forward, his hands clutching at the ground.
"Raistlin!" His throat was torn by a ragged scream.
But the mage could not help.. The last thing Tanis saw was the light from Raistlin's staff falling slowly to the ground, slowly, and mare slowly, released by the young ravage's limp, seemingly lifeless hand.
The trees. The beautiful trees of Silvanesti. Trees fashioned and coaxed through centuries into groves of wonder and enchantment. All around Tanis were the trees. But these trees now turned upon their masters, becoming living groves of horror. A noxious green light filtered through the shivering leaves.
Tanis stared about in horror. Many strange and terrible sights he had seen in his life, but nothing like this. This, he thought, might drive him insane. He turned this way and that, frantically, but there was no escape. All around were the trees-the trees of Silvanesti. Hideously changed.
The said of every tree around him appeared trapped in torment, imprisoned within the thank. The twisted branches of the tree were the limbs of its spirit, contorted in agony. The grasping roots clawed the ground in hopeless attempts to flee. The sap of the living trees flowed from huge gashes in the trunk. The rustling -of its leaves were cries of pain and terror. The trees of Silvanesti wept blood.
Tanis had no idea where he was or haw long he had been here. He remembered he had begun walking toward the Tower of the Stars that he could see rising above the branches of the aspens. He had walked and walked, and nothing had stopped him. Then he'd heard the kender shriek in terror, like the scream of some small animal being tortured. Turning" he sate Tasslehoff pointing at the trees, Tanis, staring horrified at the trees, only eventually comprehended that Tasslehoff wasn't supposed to be here. And there was Sturm, ashen with fear, and Laurana, weeping in despair, and Flint, his eyes wide and staring.
Tanis embraced Laurana, and his arms encompassed flesh and blood, but still he knew she was not there-even as he held her, and the knowledge was terrifying.
Then, as he stood there in the grove that was like a prison of the damned" the horror increased. Animals mounded out from among the tormented trees and fell upon the companions.
Tanis drew his sword to strike back, but the weapon shook. in his trembling hand, and he was forced to avert his eyes for the living animals had themselves been twisted and misshapen unto hideous aspects of undying death.
Riding among the misshapen beasts were legions of elven warriors, their skull-like features hideous to behold. No- eyes glittered in the hollow sockets of their faces, no flesh covered
THE DRAGONS OF WINTER NIGHT
the delicate bones of their hands. They rode among the companions with brightly burning swords that drew living blood. But when any weapon struck them, they disappeared into nothing.
The wounds they inflicted, however, were real. Caramon, battling a wolf with snakes growing out of its body, looked up to see one of the elven warriors bearing down on him, a shining spear in his fleshless hand. He screamed to his brother for help.
Raistlin spoke" "Ast kiranann kair Soth-aran/Suh kali Jalaran:" A ball of flame flashed from the mage's hands to burst directly upon the elf-without effect. Its spear, driven by incredible force, pierced Caramon's armor, entering his body, nailing him to the tree behind.
The elven warrior yanked his weapon free from the big man's shoulder. Caramon slumped to the ground, his life's bland mingling with the tree's blood. Raistlin, with a fury that suprised him, drew the silver dagger from the leather thong he wore hidden on his arm and flung it at the elf. The blade pricked its undead spirit and the elven warrior, horse and all, vanished into air. 'fret Caramon lay capon the ground, his arm hanging from his body by only a thin strip of flesh.
Goldmoon knelt to heal him, but she stumbled over her prayers, her faith failing her amid the horror.
"Help me, Mishakal,"' Goldmoon prayed. "Help me to help my friend.'"
The dreadful wound closed. Though blood still seeped from it, trickling down Caramon's arm, death loosed its grip on the warrior Raistlin knelt beside his brother and started to speak to him. Then suddenly the wage fell silent. He stared past Caramon into the trees, his strange eyes widening with disbelief.
"You!" Raistlin whispered.
' "Who is it?" Caramon asked weakly, hearing a thrill of horror and fear in Raistlin's voice. The big man peered into the green light but could see nothing. "Who do you mean?"
But Raistlin, intent upon another conversation, did not answer.
'7 need your aid," the mage said sternly. "Now, as before."
Caramon sawn his brother stretch out his )hand, as though reaching .across a great gap, and was consumed with fear without knowing why.
"No, Raist!" he cried, clutching at his brother in panic. Raistlin's hand dropped.
"Our bargain remains. What? You ask for more?" Raistlin was silent a moment, then he sighed. "Name it!"
For long moments, the mage listened, absorbing. Caramon, watching him with loving anxiety, saw his brother"s thin metallic-tinged face grow deathly pale. Raistlin closed his eyes, swallowing as though drinking his bitter herbal brew. Finally he bowed his head.
"I accept:"
Caramon cried out in horror as he saw Raistlin's robes, the red robes that marked his neutrality in the world, begin to deepen to crimson, then darken to a blood red, and then darken more-to black.
"I accept this;' Raistlin repeated more calmly, "with the understanding that the future can be changed. What must we do?"
He listened. Caramon clutched his arm, moaning in agony.
"How do we get through to the Tower alive?" Raistlin asked his unseen instructor. Once mare he attended carefully, then nodded. "And I will be given what I need? Very well. Farewell then, if such a thing is possible for yaw on your dark journey.'