A grim processional appeared, marching up the street toward Tas—a group of Solamnic Knights, walking on foot, leading their horses. There was no cheering, they did not talk. Each mans face was solemn and tense, each man knew he walked—most likely—to his death. They were led by a man whose bearded face stood out in sharp contrast to the clean-shaven, mustached faces of the knights around him. And, although he wore the armor of a Knight of the Rose, he did not wear it with the ease of the other knights.
“Tanis always hated plate-mail,” Tas said, watching his friend approach. “And here he is, wearing the armor of a Knight of Solamnia. I wonder what Sturm would have thought of that! I wish Sturm was here right now!” Tas’s lower lip began quivering. A tear sneaked down his nose before he could stop it. “I wish anyone brave and clever was here right now!”
When the Knights drew near the Gate, Tanis stopped and turned to face them, issuing orders in a low voice. The creaking sound of dragon wings came from overhead. Looking up, Tasslehoff saw Khirsah, circling, leading a formation of other bronze dragons. And there was the citadel, coming closer to the wall, dropping down lower and lower.
“Sturm’s not here. Caramon’s not here. No one’s here, Burrfoot,” Tas muttered, resolutely wiping his eyes. “Once again—you’re on your own. Now, what am I going to do?”
Wild thoughts ran through the kender’s mind—everything from holding Tanis at sword point (“I mean it, Tanis, keep those hands in the air!”) to clunking him over the head with a sharp rock (“Uh, say, Tanis, would you mind taking off your helm for a moment?”). Tas was even desperate enough to consider telling the truth (“You see, Tanis, we went back in time, then we went ahead in time, and Caramon got hold of this book from Astinus just as the world was coming to an end, and, in the next to the last chapter, it tells in there how you died, and—”). Suddenly, Tas saw Tanis raise his right arm. There was a flash of silver—
“That’s it,” said Tas, breathing a profound sigh of relief. “That’s what I’ll do—just what I do best...”
“No matter what happens, leave me to deal with Lord Soth,” Tanis said, looking grimly at the knights standing around him. “I want you to swear this, by the Code and the Measure.”
“Tanis, my lord—” began Sir Markham.
“No, I’m not going to argue, Knight. You’ll stand no chance at all against him without magical protection. Each one of you will be needed to fight his legions. Now, either swear this oath, or I will order you off the field. Swear!”
From beyond the closed gate, a deep, hollow voice spoke, calling out for Palanthas to surrender.
The knights glanced at each other, feeling shivers of fear run through their bodies at the inhuman sound. There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the creaking of dragons’ wings overhead as the great creatures—bronze, silver, blue, and black—circled, eyeing each other balefully, waiting for the call to battle. Tanis’s dragon, Khirsah, hovered in the air near his rider, ready to come down upon command.
And then they heard Lord Amothus’s voice—brittle and tight, but strong with purpose—answering the death knight. “Take this message to your Dragon Highlord. Palanthas has lived in peace and beauty for many centuries. But we will buy neither peace nor beauty at the price of our freedom.”
“I swear,” said Sir Markham softly, “by the Code and the Measure.”
“I swear,” came the responses of the other knights after him.
“Thank you,” Tanis said, looking at each of the young men standing before him, thinking that most wouldn’t be alive much longer... . Thinking that he himself—Angrily, he shook his head.
“Fireflash—” The words that would summon his dragon were on Tanis’s lips when he heard a commotion break out at the rear of the line of knights.
“Ouch! Get off my foot, you great lummox!”
A horse whinnied. Tanis heard one of the knights cursing, then a shrill voice answering innocently, “Well, it’s not my fault! Your horse stepped on me! Flint was right about those stupid beasts—”
The other horses, sensing battle and already affected by the tenseness of their riders, pricked their ears and snorted nervously. One danced out of line, his rider grasping at the bridle.
“Get those horses under control!” Tanis called out tensely. “What’s going on—”
“Let me past! Get out of my way. What? Is that dagger yours? You must have dropped it...”
Beyond the gate, Tanis heard the death knight’s voice. “You’ll pay for it with your lives!”
And from the line ahead of him, another voice.
“Tanis, it’s me, Tasslehoff!”
The half-elf’s heart sank. He wasn’t at all certain, at that moment, which voice chilled him more. But there didn’t seem to be time for thought or wonder. Glancing over his shoulder, Tanis saw the gate turn to ice, he saw it shatter... .
“Tanis!” Something had hold of his arm. “Oh, Tanis!” Tas clutched at him. “Tanis! You’ve got to come quickly and save Caramon! He’s going into Shoikan Grove!”
Caramon? Caramon’s dead! was Tanis’s first thought. But then Tas is dead, too. What’s going on? Am I going mad from fear?
Someone shouted. Looking around dazedly, Tanis saw the faces of the knights turn deathly white beneath their helms, and he knew Lord Soth and his legions were entering the gates.
“Mount!” he called, frantically trying to pry loose the kender, who was clinging to him tenaciously.
“Tas! This is no time—Get out of here, damn it!”
“Caramon’s going to die!” Tas wailed. “You’ve got to save him, Tanis!”
“Caramon’s... already... dead!” Tanis snarled. Khirsah landed on the ground beside him, screaming a battle cry. Evil and good—the other dragons shrieked in anger, flying at each other, talons gleaming. In an instant, battle was joined. The air was filled with the flash of lightning and the smell of acid. From above, horns sounded in the floating citadel. There were cries of glee from the draconians, who began eagerly dropping down into the city, their leathery wings spread to break their fall.
And moving closer, the chill of death flowing from his fleshless body, rode Lord Soth.
But, try as he might, Tanis couldn’t shake Tas loose. Finally, swearing beneath his breath, the half-elf got a grip on the writhing kender. Catching hold of Tas around the waist, so angry he was literally choking with rage—Tanis hurled the kender into a corner of a nearby alley.
“And stay there!” he roared.
“Tanis!” Tas pleaded. “You can’t go out there! You’re going to die. I know!”
Giving Tas a last, furious glance, Tanis turned on his heel and ran. “Fireflash!” he shouted. The dragon swooped over to him, landing on the street beside him.
“Tanis!” Tas screamed shrilly. “You cant fight Lord Soth without the bracelet!”
2
The bracelet! Tanis looked down at his wrist. The bracelet was gone! Whirling, he made a lunge for the kender. But it was too late. Tasslehoff was dashing down the street, running as if his life depended on it. (Which, after glimpsing Tanis’s furious face, Tas figured it probably did.)
“Tanis!” cried out Sir Markham.
Tanis turned. Lord Soth sat upon his nightmare, framed by the shattered gates of the city of Palanthas. His flaming-eyed gaze met Tanis’s and held. Even at that distance, Tanis felt his soul shrivel with the fear that shrouds the walking dead.
What could he do? He didn’t have the bracelet. Without it, there’d be no chance. No chance whatsoever! Thank the gods, Tanis thought in that split second, thank the gods I’m not a knight, bound to die with honor.
“Run!” he commanded through lips so stiff he could barely speak. “Fly! There is nothing you can do against these! Remember your oath! Retreat! Spend your lives fighting the living! Even as he spoke, a draconian landed in front of him, its horrible reptilian face twisted in bloodlust. Remembering just in time not to stab the thing, whose foul body would turn to stone, encasing the sword of its killers, Tanis bashed it in the face with the hilt of his weapon, kicked it in the stomach, then leaped over it as it tumbled to the ground.
Behind him, he heard the sounds of horses shrieking in terror and the clattering of hooves. He hoped the knights were obeying his last command, but he could spare no time to see. There was still a chance, if he could get hold of Tas and the magical bracelet...
“The kender!” he yelled to the dragon, pointing down the street at the fleeing, fleet-footed little figure.
Khirsah understood and was off at once, the tips of his wings grazing buildings as he swooped down the broad street in pursuit, knocking stone and brick to the ground.
Tanis ran behind the dragon. He did not look around. He didn’t need to. He could hear, by the agonized cries and screams, what was happening.
That morning, death rode the streets of Palanthas. Led by Lord Soth, the ghastly army swept through the gate like a chill wind, withering everything that stood in its path.
By the time Tanis caught up with the dragon, Khirsah had Tas in his teeth. Gripping the kender upside down by the seat of his blue pants, the dragon was shaking him like the most efficient of jail wardens. Tas’s newly acquired pouches flew open, sending a small hailstorm of rings, spoons, a napkin holder, and a half of a cheese tumbling about the street.
But no silver bracelet.
“Where is it, Tas?” Tanis demanded angrily, longing to shake the kender himself.
“Y you’ll... n-nev-ver... f-find-d-d it-t-t-t,” returned the kender, his teeth rattling in his head.
“Put him down,” Tanis instructed the dragon. “Fireflash, keep watch.”
The floating citadel had come to a stop at the city’s walls, its magic-users and dark clerics battling the attacking silver and bronze dragons. It was difficult to see in the flashes of blinding lightning and the spreading haze of smoke, but Tanis was certain he caught a quick glimpse of a blue dragon leaving the citadel. Kitiara, he thought—but he had no time to spare worrying about her. Khirsah dropped Tas (nearly on his head), and—spreading his wings—turned to face the southern part of the city where the enemy was grouping and where the city’s defenders were valiantly holding them back.
Tanis came over to stare down at the small culprit, who was staring right back at him defiantly as he stood up.
“Tasslehoff,” said Tanis, his voice quivering with suppressed rage, “this time you’ve gone too far. This prank may cost the lives of hundreds of innocent people. Give me the bracelet, Tas, and know this—from this moment on, our friendship ends!”
Expecting some hare—brained excuse or some sniffling apology, the half-elf was not prepared to see Tas regarding him with a pale face, trembling lips, and an air of quiet dignity.
“It’s very hard to explain, Tanis, and I really don’t have time. But your fighting Lord Soth wouldn’t have made any difference.” He looked at the half-elf earnestly. “You must believe me, Tanis. I’m telling the truth. It wouldn’t have mattered. All those people who are going to die would still have died, and you would have died, too, and—what’s worse—the whole world would have died. But you didn’t, so maybe it wont. And now,” Tas said firmly, tugging and twitching his pouches and his clothes into place, “we’ve got to go rescue Caramon.”
Tanis stared at Tas, then, wearily, he put his hand to his head and yanked off the hot, steel helm. He had absolutely no idea what was going on. “All right, Tas,” he said in exhaustion. “Tell me about Caramon. He’s alive? Where is he?”
Tas’s face twisted in worry. “That’s just it, Tanis. He may not be alive. At least not much longer. He’s going to try to get into the Shoikan Grove!”
“The Grove!” Tanis looked alarmed. “That’s impossible!”
“I know!” Tas tugged nervously at his topknot. “But he’s trying to get to the Tower of High Sorcery to stop Raistlin—”
“I see,” Tanis muttered. He tossed the helm down into the street. “Or I’m beginning to, at any rate. Let’s go. Which way?” Tas’s face brightened. “You’re coming? You believe me? Oh, Tanis! I’m so glad! You’ve no idea what a major responsibility it is, looking after Caramon. This way!” he cried, pointing eagerly.
“Is there anything further I can do for you, Half-Elven?” asked Khirsah, fanning his wings, his gaze going eagerly to the battle being fought overhead.
“Not unless you can enter the Grove.”
Khirsah shook his head. “I am sorry, Half-Elven. Not even dragons can enter that accursed woods. I wish you good fortune, but do not expect to find your friend alive.”
Wings beating, the dragon leaped into the air and soared toward the action. Shaking his head gravely, Tanis started off down the street at a rapid pace, Tasslehoff running to keep up.
“Maybe Caramon couldn’t even get that far,” Tas said hopefully. “I couldn’t, the last time Flint and I came. And kender aren’t frightened of anything!”
“You say he’s trying to stop Raistlin?”
Tas nodded.
“He’ll get that far,” Tanis predicted gloomily.