Laughter cascaded around them. 'True," the menacing voice sibilated. "I've been walking with you in these foothills for quite some time now. Too bad about your thirst. Nothing I can do about it as long as you're alive. When you die of thirst tomorrow, though, come back and I'll conjure you a whole sea of cold, clean water.
"You are magic," Tanis said bitterly, "but you are powerless to help us. You are even powerless to help yourself."
This time the sound that surrounded them bore no resemblance to laughter. Like a thousand voices crying out in pain, a scream shivered through the rocks and made their skin crawl. Then they heard the words: "I did not create this mountain of darkness, of gloom, of horror, by helping anyone… except myself." The wind blew up hard and cold, a burning, wet spray lashing their faces as the rain whipped down from a gray and tumultuous sky. "If I help you," he said harshly, "it is because you will help me in return. Or you will die."
"What do you want?" Tanis asked warily.
'To return to Life with you."
35
"There are many risks I would take to return to the Living," Tanis said slowly, knowing that he might be consigning himself and Brandella to death, "but I would not want it on my conscience that I was the one who returned Fistandantilus to Krynn." "So noble," the wizard said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You won't soil your hands, but what about the woman? Are you so cavalier with her life that you condemn her without asking if she feels as you do?" "He need not ask," Brandella resolutely sang out. "You give us the chance to die heroes by refusing your bargain. We thank you for it."
Tanis squeezed her hand, but he dared not look at the brave woman who stood by his side. She warmly returned the caress. The half-elf found himself strangely unafraid of his fate. The only thing he wanted in life, he felt, was to wrap his arms around the weaver and hold her close. The presence of the unseen Fistandantilus, however, kept him rooted in place.
"You care so much for the living, but what do you care for the dead?" the wizard said ominously. A lifeless tree behind them cracked and fell, sparks flying as it struck the dead ground.
'You speak in riddles," said Tanis coolly, glad he was able to resist the instinct to flinch at the mage's explosive spells. "Say what you mean."
'There are many here whom you have known," the mage replied, his voice in harmony with the whining cold wind that shivered through the gnarled dead trees behind his dilapidated cabin. "I can look inside your minds to see those whom you have loved and lost. They exist here in my world." The wizard paused, and more rocks quaked and tumbled as if the mage had imbued them with life. If there was any doubt about Fistandanti- lus's meaning, he dispelled it when he finally said, "I cannot kill again those you once knew, but I can make their existence in Death as painful as the worst moments of their lives."
Tanis felt something cold and slimy against his scalp. It lasted only a moment, but he knew without any question that it was Fistandantilus's touch. A moment later, Brandella shivered and Tanis knew she'd experienced the same sensation.
"What are you doing?" demanded Tanis.
"Learning," came the sibilant answer. "For example, Brandella had a sister, a darling little girl. Her name was Cadaloopee."
Brandella wrenched her hand free from Tanis and covered her eyes. She quivered and whispered, "Caddie was washed away in a flood."
"The little girl plays here, running in a sun-dappled wood," the mage continued as lightning flashed out of nowhere, striking the cabin but seemingly inflicting no damage. "But I can make the rains come. I can make the fear of drowning well up in her little girl's mind." The voice was a banshee's shriek. "I can make Cadaloopee relive her worst fears. I can-"
"Stop!" shouted Brandella. Tanis put his arm around her shoulder. Convulsions of shivers passed through her slender frame. He longed to challenge the mage. To defeat him. But Tanis was no magic-user.
The wizard chuckled, his low laughter like a buzzing in their ears. "As for the half-elf, I wonder if he thinks of his poor mother, who died so soon after he was born?"
Tanis stiffened. His eyes flashed with anger, but he held his tongue. He felt Brandella's arm curl around his waist, offering him what help she could.
"She was a pretty elfmaid, full of life," came the voice. "But fragile. Very fragile. Both in body and mind. Here, in Death, she leads an idyllic existence, caring and cared for by her loved ones. I wonder what she would feel if I arranged for your brutish father to arrive on her doorstep?"
Tanis's heart pounding in his chest, he now knew the depth of his hatred for the wizard. The mage deserved his dark mountain of horrors. And Tanis wished he could bury the wizard at the bottom of it.
"What? No response?" Fistandantilus asked with a caustic edge.
"You will not harm my mother in any way," Tanis said through clenched teeth.
"Of course I won't." The voice crawled with false reassurance. "Just as long as you do as I ask." Tanis swallowed hard. The mage had had devastating power in life; his bleak, windswept mountain of evil was testament to that. The half-elf pondered the legacy that Fistandantilus had left on Krynn… and he shuddered. It was in that moment, though, that the half-elf saw a glimmer of hope. The mage had performed his magic on Krynn; here, in Death, he was a prisoner of his own creation, existing in the shadow of his horrible deeds. And Tanis remembered something Softfire had said.
The half-elf stopped, consciously willing the disappearance of the half-formed idea. If the mage could read his thoughts, Tanis didn't want Fistandantilus to follow what he had been thinking.
Turning to Brandella, he gently said, "We should consider his offer."
She stared at him, shocked. Her dark eyes with their dark lashes glowed against her porcelain skin.
"What difference does it make where evil dwells, here or on Krynn?" he argued, seeing her reaction. "Life is short compared to the time one spends in this place. Better Fistandantilus should walk among the living than to terrorize the dead for all eternity."
"Do you mean what you're saying?" she asked coldly, "or are you just trying to convince yourself?"
"I'm trying to tell you that this is our only way." Hating to play Fistandantilus's game, yet knowing there was no other choice, he fixed his face into a sneer and harshly demanded, "How could you possibly live with yourself, knowing that your sister would exist in perpetual terror?"
Her Hps trembled; she was unable to speak.
Acting as though he were trying to speak with her privately, he leaned close to Brandella and whispered, "He was defeated in Life before; he can be defeated again." Tanis knew, of course, that the mage had heard every word. Fistandantilus remained silent.
Brandella seemed to be slightly swayed, to think, for a moment, that their actions, should the pair agree to the mage's terms, would not be irreversible.
"Let me talk to him," he said coaxingly.
With enormous reluctance, she nodded.
"You say you will make a bargain with us," Tanis said tentatively to the mage. "How are we to know that you will keep your end of the deal?"
"You cannot know," said the wizard. "You must trust me because there is no one else who can help you before you die. The real question is, can I trust you to keep your end of our arrangement?"
Tanis looked up at the towering mountain, then at the sorry excuse for a cabin, and finally at the open, gray land in front of him, imagining the wizard hovering there. "It would seem," said the half-elf, "that we must trust each other equally." The voice laughed with a sound of stones rattling on metal. "Trust each other? Hardly," Fistandantilus crooned. "You forget whom you are talking to. I tell you now that if you cross me, you will regret it for as long as you live-which won't be very long-and for as long as you are dead. Which will be much, much longer. You have my promise on that."