“Di An!” he said triumphantly, walking into their shelter. “Catfish!”
The girl from the caverns of Hest had squeezed herself into the tightest ball she could. Riverwind tried to tease her out, but she would not so much as lift her head to see what he was talking about. From helplessness he went to frustration, then anger.
“Look at me! We must leave as soon as possible. You have to overcome this fear! There isn't anything about the open air that can hurt you,” he said vehemently.
He tossed the catfish on the floor by her feet. After skinning them-not an easy task with his large knife-he skewered the fillets on sticks. Over a slow, smoky fire of ironclaw twigs, Riverwind roasted the fish.
There was a soapstone font filled with rainwater in one of the ruined buildings on the north side of the temple. Using a fragment of draconian armor as a dipper, he brought cool water and a cooked fish to Di An. She would not eat. She was completely paralyzed, and didn't seem to hear Riverwind. He ate his fish and pondered the elf girl, a prisoner of her own mind. Surely this was an illness, like fever or pox.
Then he remembered: The Staff of Mishakal cured illnesses.
He didn't know exactly how to go about curing her, though. Riverwind held the staff out like a spear and touched Di An with the tip. Nothing happened. The staff remained dark, rough wood, without even the slightest glow of sapphire blue. It was no use; he just didn't know how to make it work.
“We must go to the temple,” Riverwind said. He lifted Di An in his arms. She sighed and relaxed enough to lie in his grasp. “Giant,” she whispered. As soon as they went outside, Di An shook and cried with fear, but Riverwind held her tightly and hurried to the temple. Inside, he knelt before the statue of the goddess.
“Great Goddess,” he said, “bring your light to this girl's mind. Save her from her fear. Make her healthy once more.” Nothing happened. The statue remained cold and lifeless, its delicate marble fingers curled around the empty air where once the staff had been.
Anger threatened to cloud the plainsman's mind. His hands clenched into fists, but that was no help. Going to Di An, he scooped her up in his arms once more.
“We're going outside,” he said sternly. “You have to learn that there's nothing to be afraid of. The sky is not an enemy, and there is no danger in open air.”
“No!” she said, convulsing. Di An dug her fingers into his arms. “Please, no, I can't bear it!”
“You must. We must keep moving, or risk capture by Shanz.”
He carried Di An out into the late morning sun. Fluffy, grayish clouds with flat bottoms sailed in the river of the sky, creating cycles of light and shade. Riverwind marched out to the sandy verge between the edge of the ancient pavement and the beginning of the ironclaw forest. Di An clung to him, face buried against his chest. Riverwind tried to disengage her. She held on with the desperation of the driven.
“Let go,” he said. “Let go!” When the elf girl would not, he pried her away. Di An's eyes were wide with terror. She was dizzy, sick. She knew she would fall if he let go of her.
It tore Riverwind's heart to see her so frightened, but he knew he must be adamant. “Look at me! Look where you are! There is no danger,” he said loudly.
Di An's lower lip quivered. “I can't simply tell myself to stop being afraid,” she said in a barely audible voice. “It doesn't work.”
“I'm going to put you down,” Riverwind said. Di An sank to her knees as he set her on the ground. When he released her, she uttered a sharp cry and flung herself face down on the sandy soil. She tore at the ground with her hands, trying to dig herself a nice, safe hole.
“Stop it!” Riverwind cried. He tried to snag her wrists, but she punched him and wriggled away from his grasp. “Stop it! You're behaving like a madwoman!”
A shadow fell across the struggling figures. Riverwind paid no attention to it at first, marking it in the back of his mind as a passing cloud. But the shadow stayed over them, and he heard a steady whuff-whuff, which coincided with the gusts of wind that were sweeping over him.
Di An turned over on her back. She screamed and pointed a trembling finger over his shoulder. Riverwind turned, his mouth open as he continued his attempts to dissuade Di An of her fear, but all his talk evaporated. It wasn't merely the sky that the elf girl pointed at.
Poised a hundred feet above them, wings beating slowly to keep her aloft, was a dragon. The sunlight made iridescent patterns on her black scales. Her wing claws were purest white. The head at the end of her long, serpentine neck was fringed with wicked-looking horns. Khisanth, mistress of Xak Tsaroth, watched the two of them idly, as a human might watch the progress of an ant.
Riverwind was paralyzed with dragonfear. He stared at the creature above him. A monster of myth and legend. A creature he hadn't quite believed existed.
Khisanth's head tilted quizzically. Her mouth opened and a long tongue flickered out once, twice. Her horned head began to snake down toward them.
Di An gave a strangled cry and scrambled to her feet. Her fear of the dragon had overcome her terror of the outdoors. She reeled about and stumbled inside the temple.
The elf girl's actions penetrated the numbing shock that had frozen Riverwind. He forced himself to move and ran after Di An. Seek shelter, his brain pounded. Seek shelter with the goddess.
Khisanth followed his progress with her bright eyes. Idly, almost casually, she spewed a short stream of acid at the running man. Riverwind ducked into the temple just as the caustic droplets hit the front steps. The acid hissed and bubbled as it ate into the old marble.
Once inside the temple, he stood pressed against the far wall. Di An huddled on the floor at his feet. Both of them trembled and shook. Out of sight of the dragon some semblance of coherent thought returned. What were they going to do now? Khisanth had returned, and they were doomed. Riverwind knew that he could not fight a black dragon. The mere sight of the creature froze the blood in his veins.
The plainsman's despairing gaze fell on the Staff of Mis-hakal, which leaned against the wall. The words of the goddess sounded once more in his mind: “Only one whose heart is inherently good can touch the staff and remain unharmed.” Steel would not prevail against Khisanth's acid and magic. But perhaps a simple staff, blessed by a goddess, was the answer.
Riverwind prayed to Mishakal for strength and picked up the staff. When he touched it, the staff glowed with a cold blue brilliance. He nearly dropped it in shock. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip. The goddess was with him. Her beneficent presence pervaded the staff. He could face the dragon with her help. Riverwind strode forth from the temple, holding the staff before him.
The dragon had settled on the paved stone plaza south of the temple, near the well opening. When Riverwind appeared on the steps, the dragon hissed, “What do you have there, little one?”
The staff was sky-blue sapphire. Its glow outshone the bright sun. “Keep back!” Riverwind commanded.
“I shall keep where I like,” Khisanth answered idly. Her teeth were long and white. “Who are you, and why do you dare invade my realm?”
“Keep back, I say!”
“I've no patience for bandying words with humans. That's a pretty blue stick. Give it to me and I'll give you your life.”
“Very generous to give me what I already have,” the plainsman said shakily.
“You live only as long as I allow,” the dragon snapped, her calm thinning. She uncoiled a foreleg, her foot-long talons sinking into the marble paving as if it were pudding. “Lay down the staff and run for your life, puny mortal.”