The two remaining goblins bared their sharp fangs; the intruders had evened the odds. Tanis took advantage of the goblins' surprise to impale his sword in the belly of one of them, but the hideous being grabbed hold of the blade and wouldn't let go. As the dying creature twisted away from Tanis, it pulled the sword out of the half-elf's hand. At the same moment, the other goblin struck Tanis a glancing blow with his battle-axe, hitting him in the same spot on the shoulder that Kishpa had cut. Tanis winced in pain and backed away, nearly tripping over a tree root.
The goblin bandit pressed its advantage and swung again. Tanis jumped out of the way but this time lost his footing and fell. The final goblin grinned-until Mertwig's battle-axe struck him from behind, crushing his skull.
"A lot of nerve, ignoring me like that," the dwarf spat at the dead bandit at his feet. Then he sat heavily on the ground with a groan.
Yeblidod ran to him.
Tanis pulled the tooth out of Mertwig's leg, and then Yeblidod used her healing powers on her husband. At least, she tried. The dwarf was badly hurt; that he had fought so nobly and for so long was a testament to his brave heart. That he lived at all as the sun rose over Krynn was due entirely to Yeblidod.
"You saved my life a second time," Tanis humbly told the dying dwarf. Mertwig shook his head and coughed. Smears of blood appeared on his lips. "You stood up for me… twice" he finally rasped. "You were there… when I needed… needed help most. I won't forget."
"Shhhh," soothed Yeblidod. "Rest."
The trees, swathed in early morning mist, waved serenely overhead, contrasting with the anguished scene below.
"What are you doing out here on the path to Solace?" Brandella asked Mertwig's wife.
"Self-exile," the matronly dwarf replied as she bathed her husband's burning forehead with a wet cloth. "Canpho insisted on a trial, and Mertwig would not abide the insult. We left last night."
"Just like that7" she asked. "After so many years?"
"Yes," Yeblidod answered reservedly, green eyes soft above the slightly humped nose. "I didn't want to go, but it was Mertwig's wish. We packed what we owned, put it in a handcart, and left."
"But your cart…" Brandella asked, looking confused. She squinted into the mist at the gaily painted handcart.
'That's not…" Tanis interrupted. "Their cart went into the sea when they were trying to rescue Scowarr and me."
Yeblidod flushed slightly. "A neighbor and friend lent us her cart. We still have friends in Ankatavaka, whatever Mertwig may believe," she added sadly.
The three sat quietly for a moment, watching as Mertwig's eyes fluttered shut in apparent sleep.
"You can't continue on," Tanis suddenly told the dwar- ven woman. "Mertwig is too ill. You, yourself, have been through an ordeal. You must go back to Ankatavaka. His pride is less important now than his life."
Mertwig's eyes flew open again. "No!" he wailed. He grasped at Tanis's hand. "I won't go back."
"Why?" asked Brandella.
The dwarf looked away. "I have no friends… no friends… left in Ankatavaka," he said breathlessly.
"Of course you do," insisted Brandella. "What about Kishpa?"
He shook his head with an infinite sadness in his eyes. Brandella's eyes filled with tears. So did Yeblidod's.
"Kishpa and you have been so close for so long-and it has come to this," the weaver said in hushed tones. The two women rose and walked a short distance away, arms around each other's waist. Mertwig watched them go.
"Where is the human?" asked the dwarf, grasping at Tanis's hand.
"Scowarr's standing watch. Why? Do you want to speak with him?"
Tanis made a move to rise.
"No," Mertwig objected hoarsely. "Just you. Alone. While I can."
Tanis leaned closer. "What is it?"
Mertwig pressed his lips together and scrutinized the half-elf. "I can't… can't tell Yeblidod… or Kishpa… not anyone," he wheezed. "But I… I have to." 'Tell what?" Tanis asked, keeping his voice soft.
"The truth. Before I die. I can't… can't carry it to my… my grave."
Tanis began to protest, then stopped. It was obvious that the dwarf wouldn't survive much longer. "I'm listening," said Tanis gently.
"I am guilty… guilty," Mertwig said, and shuddered. "I stole… stole to buy… to buy the glass ball. I lied. But I couldn't admit admit it. Not in front of… Yeblidod. Do you understand?"
Tanis was about to answer when Scowarr skidded to a stop right next to him.
"Someone is coming!" he announced, nearly incoherent in his excitement. "I think it's Kishpa. We've got to go!"
Tanis held up his hand to stop Scowarr. He turned back to Mertwig to tell him that he understood. But the old dwarf was dead.
27
Quickly, the half-elf led Branbella and Scowarr to a safe place behind a stand of nearby trees. "He should be coming soon," said Little Shoulders. The human was right. Kishpa came striding down the path, fluttering crimson robe nearly black in the uncertain dawn light, a determined look on his face. Brandella instinctively started to go to him; she knew how Kishpa would feel when he turned into the clearing and found that Mertwig was dead. Tanis had to grab her arm to stop her. "Yeblidod will be there with him," the half-elf told Brandella quietly. She nodded and silently began to sob.
"We'll make a wide circle around the camp," Tanis added, putting his arm around Brandella's shoulder. "We'd better go."
They traveled at a relentless pace, never knowing how close behind them the young Kishpa might be and never knowing when the blackness of death might snuff out their hope of leaving the ancient wizard's memory.
In two days' time, they reached the woods in which Tanis would one day, many years hence, survive a terrible fire and befriend a dying mage. The trees were not as tall as Tanis remembered them from before the fire, nor was the pond as wide. Yet the place where Kishpa would one day sit and set his magic in motion was easily found. Tanis brought Brandella to the spot and said, "He is thinking of you right now from this very place."
Brandella knelt there and stroked the cool, damp grass.
"I…" she began, and swallowed. "I have tried to imagine what Kishpa might have looked like as an old man."
Tanis could not help her without describing the ravages of the flames. He cast about for an answer.
Scowarr rescued him. "Are you leaving now?" the human called from the edge of the pond. He was doing his best to hide his sadness.
"We're going to try," Tanis replied. "Let us say goodbye, my friend."
Scowarr, his new suit showing signs of wear but his tufted hair surprisingly tidy, tossed a last stone into the water and then walked to where the half-elf stood with Brandella. He hugged them both. "I hate farewells," he said. "They're never funny."
Tanis nodded. "I will think of you often," he said.
Brandella kissed Little Shoulders on the cheek. He blushed.
"You can think of me all you want," Scowarr told the half-elf. "Me7 I'll be thinking of her."
Despite-no, because of-the somber moment, they all laughed.,
Scowarr's eyes dribbled tears-of laughter, he insisted. "Fine," he said, "Now you laugh. It took you long enough, Half-Elven."
And then it was time.
Scowarr stepped back to watch as Tanis and Brandella held hands and called out to Kishpa to take them out of his memory and deliver them to the present.
They chanted his name.
They sang to him.
They shouted to him.
They pleaded with him.
Nothing happened.
"Back so soon?" quipped Scowarr.