“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.
It had taken every bit of Caramon’s nerve and courage to even approach the Shoikan Grove. As it was, he was able to come closer to it than any other living mortal not bearing a charm allowing safe passage. Now he stood before those dark, silent trees, shivering and sweating and trying to make himself take one more step.
“My death lies in there,” he murmured to himself, licking his dry lips. “But what difference should that make? I’ve faced death before, a hundred times!” Hand gripping the hilt of his sword, Caramon edged a foot forward.
“No, I will not die!” he shouted at the forest. “I cannot die. Too much depends on me. And I will not be stopped by... by trees!”
He edged his other foot forward.
“I have walked in darker places than this.” He kept talking, defiantly. “I have walked the Forest of Wayreth. I have walked Krynn when it was dying. I have seen the end of the world. No,” he continued firmly. “This forest holds no terrors for me that I cannot overcome.”
With that, Caramon strode forward and stepped into the Shoikan Grove.
He was immediately plunged into everlasting darkness. It was like being back in the Tower again, when Crysania’s spell had blinded him. Only this time he was alone. Panic clutched him. There was life within that darkness! Horrible, unholy life that wasn’t life at all but living death... Caramon’s muscles went weak. He fell to his hands and knees, sobbing and shivering in terror.
“You’re ours!” whispered soft, hissing voices. “Your blood, your warmth, your life! Ours! Ours! Come closer. Bring us your sweet blood, your warm flesh. We are cold, cold, cold beyond endurance. Come closer, come closer.”
Horror overwhelmed Caramon. He had only to turn and run and he would escape... But, no,” he gasped in the hissing, smothering darkness, “I must stop Raistlin! I must... go... on.,, For the first time in his life, Caramon reached far down within himself and found the same indomitable will that had led his twin to overcome frailty and pain and even death itself to achieve his goal. Gritting his teeth, unable to stand yet determined to move ahead, Caramon crawled on his hands and knees through the dirt.
It was a valiant effort, but he did not get far. Staring into the darkness, he watched in paralyzed fascination as a fleshless hand reached up through the ground. Fingers, chill and smooth as marble, closed over his hand and began dragging him down. Desperately, he tried to free himself, but other hands grasped for him, their nails tearing into his flesh. He felt himself being sucked under. The hissing voices whispered in his ears, lips of bone pressed against his flesh. The cold froze his heart.