Flint was truly a wonderful person and had many good qualities, but — since I have to be honest — I thought he lacked a bit in the common-sense line. He was constantly getting into trouble and it was me who was always having to drag him out.
But Fizban promised me that Flint and the rest of my friends would be fine without me and that we'd see them again in Famine Time, which was coming up soon. So I grabbed my pack and my pouches and off Fizban and I went together on an adventure.
An adventure that I never told anyone about until now.
The story I never told.
"Where are we going?" I asked Fizban, after we'd left Huma's Tomb far, far behind us.
The wizard was moving in a tremendous hurry, huffing and puffing and stomping down the trail, his arms flying, his hat pulled low over his forehead, his staff thumping the ground.
"I don't know," he said fiercely, and walked faster than ever.
This struck me as a bit odd. I mean, I've set off on journeys to places that I didn't know precisely where I was going but I never rushed to get there. I took my time. Enjoyed the scenery. Which is maybe why we were traveling so fast, because at that point there wasn't much scenery to enjoy. We hadn't gone very far when — smack — we walked right into Foghaven Vale.
I suppose you're wondering about that SMACK sound. Maybe you think squish might be more appropriate for talking about walking into fog. Or perhaps whoosh. But I thought "smack" at the time because that's what it felt like. Smack into a gray-white wall of fog. It was thick. Extremely thick. I know because I held my hand up to my face and walked right into it myself. I wondered if the fog had thickened up on purpose in our honor.
"Drat!" said Fizban, waving his arms. "Get out of my way! Can't see a confounded thing. What's the meaning of this? No respect for the aged! Absolutely none at all."
He stood there waving his arms and shouting at the fog. I watched a while as best I could for not being able to see him all that well. But it seemed to me that the more he shouted the thicker the fog got — sort of an "I'll Show You, Old Man!" type of reaction. And my topknot was soaking wet and dripping water down the back of my shirt, and my shoes were slowly filling up with oozing muck — all of which was very entertaining for a while, but soon lost a lot of its charm.
"Fizban," I said, going up to tug on his sleeve.
I guess I startled him, coming up on him suddenly out of the fog like that.
At any rate, he apologized very handsomely for hitting me on the nose with his staff and helped pick me up out of the muck and patted my head until it quit ringing. And we thought at first my nose was broken, then decided it wasn't and when the bleeding stopped, we started on our way again.
We walked and we walked. Finally, Fizban said he thought the fog had let up considerably. The result, he said, of a marvelous spell he'd cast on it. I didn't think it was polite to contradict him and besides I could almost sort of see the grass under my feet if I bent down and looked for it, so I figured he must be right. But we slowed our pace quite a bit, especially after Fizban walked BLAM into the tree.
It was either right before or right after he set the tree on fire that we came to Huma's Tomb.
It was daylight now. (We'd spent the night getting here.) The fog lifted just enough for us to see where we were, which I thought was quite sneaky of the fog. Almost like it was laughing at us.
I must tell you I was somewhat disappointed to see Huma's Tomb again. Not that it isn't a wonderful place. It is. Huma's Tomb, for those who haven't made the pilgrimage there, is really a temple. It is rectangular in shape and made out of black rock that Flint called obsidian. The outside is carved all over with knights fighting dragons and it is a very solemn and reverent place.
Inside is Huma's bier where they laid his body to rest. And his shield and sword are still there, but his body isn't. The Tomb is sad because it makes you think about your life and how you wish you'd done things better. But it's a good kind of sad because you realize that there's still the rest of your life for you to change and make better.
That was how I felt when I FIRST saw Huma's Tomb, but now maybe all the fog was making it look different. All I felt now was the kind of sad that doesn't make you feel good inside.
"Ah, ha I" Fizban shouted. "I know where I am."
"Huma's Tomb," I said.
"No!" He was thunderstruck. "Didn't we just leave here?"
"Yes. We must have been walking in circles. Maybe I'll go say good-bye to Flint, while I'm here," I said, and started to climb the stairs.
"No, no," Fizban said quickly, grabbing hold of me. "They're not there. All gone inside the Silver Dragon Mountain. Silvara's taken them to the magical pool of dragonmetal, used to forge the magical dragonlances. Come along. We have other fish to fry."
Well, I had to admit that the temple did look dark and deserted now. And fried fish sounded good. So we set out.
We hadn't taken two steps before the fog came back, only this time it was mixed with smoke from the smoldering tree and I couldn't see the grass beneath my feet. I couldn't see my feet.
We walked and walked and walked and stopped and rested and ate dinner. We began to walk again and Fizban told me what a marvelous tracker he was, much better than Riverwind, and how he (Fizban) never ever got lost and how he always kept the wind on his right cheek so moss wouldn't grow on his north side. And then we came to Huma's Tomb. The second time.
"Ah! ha!" cried Fizban, charging out of the fog, and stubbed his toe on the stairs leading up to the temple.
When he saw where we were (for the second time), he shouted. "You again!" He scowled and shook his fist at the temple. And he kicked the stairs with the same toe he used to bump into them.
Fizban hopped around on one foot and yelled at the stairs, which was fun to watch for a while, but must have got pretty boring later on because the next thing I knew I was asleep.
What I mean to say is that the next thing I knew I was awake, but I must have fallen asleep in order to have woken up, mustn't I? I think I slept for a considerable length of time because I was all stiff and sore from lying on the slick, black stairs, and I was wet and cold and hungry.
"Fizban?" I said.
He wasn't there.
I felt sort of creepy, maybe because the Tomb was sort of creepy. My stomach twisted up, because I was afraid something might have happened to Fizban and, to be honest, this fog was starting to make my skin shiver, as Flint would say. Then I heard him snore. (Fizban.) He was sleeping on the grass with his injured foot propped up on a step and his hat over it (his foot).
I was very glad to see him and guess I startled him, waking him up suddenly with a yell like that. He apologized for letting off the fireball, and we were able to have a hot breakfast, due to the fact that another tree was burning. He said that my eyebrows would grow back any day.
After breakfast, off we went again — Fizban with his foot wrapped up in a dish towel I'd found in my pouch. We walked around in the fog for I forget how long except I remember eating again and sleeping again and then we came to Huma's Tomb.
For the third time.
I don't mean to offend any knights when I say this, but I was beginning to be a little bored at the sight of it.
"This does it," Fizban muttered, and he started to roll up his sleeves. "Follow us, will you!"
"I don't think it's following us," I pointed out, and I'm afraid I spoke pretty sharp. "I think we're following it!"
"No!" Fizban looked amazed. Then confused. "Do you think so?"
"Yes," I snapped, wondering if my eyebrows would truly grow back and wishing I could see what I looked like without them. In fact, I was wishing I could see anything, besides Huma's Tomb and fog and burning trees.