“To talk to this place,” she mused aloud. The rustling leaves seemed to be talking to her. Join us, she imagined them saying. Perhaps if she and her companions were successful in obtaining the four artifacts, she would come back here and do just that—with Dhamon in tow. The Kagonesti hoped if the Green was eventually vanquished, the forest would not revert quickly to its original form. “This is so beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” Usha agreed.
“And green,” Jasper added.
Feril took the lead as she headed deeper into the tropical woods. Her eyes lit on a trillium, a three-leaved dark red flower that grew amid a patch of velvet ferns. The plant should have been ankle-high, the bloom about the size of her thumb, but this one reached nearly to her waist. She moved toward it and ran her fingers over its fist-sized, cone-shaped blossom. Its fragrance was intoxicating. She breathed in deeply.
“Nuts!” She heard wood snap behind her, and turned.
“Sorry,” the dwarf offered as he tugged his foot loose from between two protruding roots. “Don’t mean to insult your beautiful forest, Feril. It’s hard to get around in here. Everything’s so big.”
“You wanted to come along,” Palin reminded him.
“Only because Gilthanas didn’t want me to go to Southern Ergoth. And only because I wasn’t about to get left behind on the ship again. Look what I missed by not going into the desert with you—elephants and everything.”
“You could have sailed to Schallsea with Dhamon and Rig,” Usha reminded him.
Jasper caught up to the Kagonesti. “If you ask me, you should’ve stayed on the ship. Dhamon didn’t look too happy to see you go.”
Feril frowned. “I wasn’t too happy about it either. But we’ll have time together later. Besides, Goldmoon needs to do something about that scale.”
The dwarf smiled. “If anyone can do something about it, it’s Goldmoon. Let’s pick up the pace; there’s not much daylight left.”
Feril smiled down at him. “There’s lots of light left. Just not much of it is reaching down here.”
“Night‘ll be real dark, then.”
“Like a cave,” Palin mused.
The dwarf sighed.
Monkeys chattered and leaped from branch to branch. Birds were in abundance, some screeching shrilly, others singing melodiously. There were plenty of parrots—tropical birds that normally wouldn’t be found here. Lured by the warmth and dense vegetation, they were thriving. Throwing her head back and peering between the branches, Feril could see the orange and yellow feathers of the largest macaws. She pointed them out to Jasper, who seemed only politely interested. Usha, however, was enchanted by them and walked with her head tilted up. She watched them glide from branch to branch, while she held onto Palin’s arm.
They had traveled for more than an hour when the noise abruptly stopped. Feril was the first to notice the unnatural silence. She stopped and concentrated on her other senses—her elven eyes peering into the foliage, her nostrils quivering, trying to pick up new scents—perhaps a large carnivore, something that might have scared the birds.
“Palm, look over here. There’s some kind of net on the ground!” Jasper called.
“Don’t touch it!” Feril called, as she darted forward. Palin and Usha were fast behind her. The Kagonesti reached the dwarf then felt herself yanked off her feet and rising into the air along with Palin, Usha, and Jasper. The net shot high into the trees, biting into their skin. Thorny branches scraped them, tearing their clothes and striping them with welts.
When it came to a stop, the net dangled more than twenty feet above the forest floor, swaying and causing the branches that held it to groan in protest.
“I didn’t touch it!” Jasper shouted. He looked down and then slammed his mouth shut, fighting the sensation of his stomach rising into his throat.
Feril also looked down at the ground, then at her companions, Usha was holding tight to the net, her knuckles white. Palin was trying to move his legs. The sorcerer had a dagger he’d been carrying since the Northern Wastes. Jasper had one too, and a hammer strapped to his belt. Between the two of them, maybe they could cut their way free, swing the net toward a tree first, snare a branch and climb down. Something moved below, skulking from bush to bush, before finally stepping out into the clearing. Feril tugged on Palin’s sleeve, and pointed to the solitary Qualinesti gazing up at them.
The elf wore a long green dress that nearly matched the shade of the velvet ferns. Her hair was short, the color of honey, and her bright blue eyes peered up at them with curiosity. “Spies of the dragon,” she pronounced after looking them over. “You are dead.”
More than a dozen elves rushed out of the foliage to join her, several of them with bows trained up at the net, arrows nocked. She raised her hand, signaling them.
“Wait!” Palin shouted. He pressed his face through a gap in the net. “We’re no spies! We work against the dragons— not for them. I’m Palin Majere and—”
“Majere?” The word rolled off her tongue. “One of the few survivors from the battle with Chaos?”
“Yes, I fought in the Abyss!” Palin returned. “I’m still fighting!”
“If we let you live, you’ll still fight.” The woman stood directly beneath the net now. “Apparently the most famous sorcerer on Krynn is tangled up in our net,” she said, looking over at the other elves. She turned to look back up at Palin. “Apparently you must think us complete fools!”
“No, he really is Palin Majere” said Feril.
The woman glared up at her. “Kagonesti,” she said loudly. “Fled from Southern Ergoth. Perhaps you spy for the White?”
“We will not harm you,” Palin said calmly.
“Oh, I know that. After all, you and your sorcerer friends from the Tower did save our race from the Green Peril. And you still help some Qualinesti escape to safely, when you’re not hanging around in nets, that is.” The elven woman burst into laughter, her companions joining her.
“You? Stand up to the Green Peril?” one of the archers asked Feril. Those beside him chuckled, their soft laughter sounding like leaves rustling in the breeze.
“We oppose Beryl, too—and the White in Southern Ergoth,” Feril added. She turned her head and whispered to Palin, “The resistance is made up of scattered groups of Qualinesti linked by a network throughout the forest. I’ve heard they monitor the dragon and strike with military precision against her minions.”
“We’re trying to stand up to all the overlords,” Usha called.
“And just how do you expect to fight the great dragons?” The woman’s tone was heavy with skepticism. “Four against the dragons.”
“There’s more of us,” Jasper finally spoke.
The elven woman whispered an order to one of the archers. He lowered his bow and slipped into the dense undergrowth.
“Not here!” the dwarf called. “In Southern Ergoth and Schallsea. Oh, what’s the use? You’re not listening.”
“What measure of trust do you offer us?” she returned. “What proof is there of what you claim? Speak quickly, or my men will loose their arrows.”
“This trust,” Palin answered. The sorcerer took a deep breath and told her the truth about their search for the artifacts and their hope to restore magic to Krynn. “We were heading to the old stronghold, the old tower,” he concluded. “One such artifact, a wooden scepter known as the Fist of E’li, is said to rest there.”
“A tale, and a good one,” the elven woman said. “And if it is true, you are on a fool’s errand. Only death awaits you in that place. It is a crumbling tower that even our greatest warriors avoid. What matter if we kill you, or if you die there?”
She again nodded to the archers, who raised their bows.