7

‘—not destined to meet again in this world.’

The companions had just reached the marketplace when the first flight of dragons struck Tarsis.

The group had separated from the knights, riot a pleasant parting. The knights had tried to convince them to escape with them into the hills. When the companions refused, Derek demanded that Tasslehoff accompany them, since the kender alone knew the location of the dragon orbs. Tanis knew Tas would only run away from the knights and was forced to refuse again.

‘Bring the kender, Sturm, and come with us,’ Derek commanded, ignoring Tanis.

‘I cannot, sir,’ Sturm replied, laying his hand on Tanis’s arm. ‘He is my leader, and my first loyalty is to my friends.’

Derek’s voice was cold with anger. ‘If that is your decision,’ he answered, ‘I cannot stop you. But this is a black mark against you, Sturm Brightblade. Remember that you are not a knight. Not yet. Pray that I am not there when the question of your knighthood comes before the Council.’

Sturm became as pale as death. He cast a sideways glance at Tanis, who tried to hide his astonishment at this startling news. But there was no time to think about it. The sound of the horns, screaming discordantly on the chill air, was coming closer and closer each second. The knights and the companions parted; the knights heading for their camp in the hills, the companions returning to town.

They found the townspeople outside their houses, speculating on the strange horn calls, which they had never heard before and did not understand. One Tarsian alone heard and understood. The Lord in the council chamber rose to his feet at the sound. Whirling, he turned upon the smug-looking draconian seated in the shadows behind him.

‘You said we would be spared!’ the Lord said through clenched teeth. ‘We’re still negotiating—’

‘The Dragon Highlord grew weary of negotiation,’ the draconian said, stifling a yawn. ‘And the city will be spared—after it has been taught a lesson, of course.’

The Lord’s head sank into his hands. The other council members, not fully comprehending what was happening, stared at each other in horrified awareness as they saw tears trickle through the Lord’s fingers.

Outside, the red dragons were visible in the skies, hundreds of them. Flying in regimented groups of three to five, their wings glistened flame red in the setting sun. The people of Tarsis knew one thing and one thing only: death flew overhead.

As the dragons swooped low, making their first passes over the town, the dragonfear flowed from them, spreading panic more deadly than fire. The people had one thought in their minds as the shadows of the wings blotted out the dying light of day—escape.

But there was no escape.

After the first pass, knowing now that they would meet no resistance, the dragons struck. One after the other, they circled, then dropped from the sky like red-hot shot, their fiery breath engulfing building after building with flame. The spreading fires created their own windstorms. Choking smoke filled the street, turning twilight into midnight. Ash poured down like black rain. Screams of terror changed to screams of agony as people died in the blazing abyss that was Tarsis.

And as the dragons struck, a sea of fear-crazed humanity surged through the flame-lit streets. Few had any clear idea of where they were going. Some shouted they would be safe in the hills, others ran down by the old waterfront, still others tried to reach the city gates. Above them flew the dragons, burning at their discretion, killing at their leisure.

The human sea broke over Tanis and the companions, crushing them into the street, swirling them apart, smashing them up against buildings. The smoke choked them and stung their eyes, tears blinded them as they fought to control the dragonfear that threatened to destroy their reason.

The heat was so intense that whole buildings blew apart. Tanis caught Gilthanas as the elf was hurled into the side of a building. Holding onto him, the half-elf could only watch helplessly as the rest of his friends were swept away by the mob.

‘Back to the Inn!’ Tanis shouted. ‘Meet at the Inn!’ But whether they heard him or not, he could not say. He could only trust that they would all try to head in that direction.

Sturm caught hold of Alhana in his strong arms, halfcarrying, half-dragging her through the death-filled streets. Peering through the ash, he tried to see the others, but it was hopeless. And then began the most desperate battle he had ever fought, striving to keep his feet and support Alhana as time and again the dreadful waves of humanity broke over them.

Then Alhana was ripped from his arms by the shrieking mob, whose booted feet trampled all that lived. Sturm flung himself into the crowd, shoving and bashing with his armored arms and body, and caught Alhana’s wrists. Deathly pale, she was shaking with fright. She hung onto his hands with all her strength, and finally he was able to pull her close. A shadow swept over them. A dragon, screaming cruelly, bore down upon the street that heaved and surged with men, women, and children. Sturm ducked into a doorway, dragging Alhana with him, and shielded her with his body as the dragon swooped low overhead. Flame filled the street; the screams of the dying were heart-rending.

‘Don’t look!’ Sturm whispered to Alhana, pressing her against him, tears streaming dawn his own face. The dragon passed, and suddenly the streets were horrible, unbearably still. Nothing moved.

‘Let’s go, while we can,’ Sturm said, his voice shaking. Clinging to each other, the two stumbled out of the doorway, their senses numbed, moving only by instinct. Finally, sickened and dizzy from the smell of charred flesh and smoke, they were forced to seek shelter in another doorway.

For a moment, they could do nothing but hold onto each other, thankful for the brief respite, yet haunted by the knowledge that in seconds they must return to the deadly streets.

Alhana rested her head against Sturm’s chest. The .ancient, old-fashioned armor felt coal against her shin. Its hard metal surface was reassuring, and beneath it she could feel his heart beat, rapid, steady, and soothing, The arms that held her were strong, hard, well-muscled. His hand stroked her black hair.

Alhana, chaste maiden of a stern and rigid people, had. long known when, where, and whom she would marry. He was an elflord, and it was a mark of their understanding that—in all the years since this had been arranged—they had never touched. He had stayed behind with the people, while Alhana returned to find her father. She had strayed into this world of humans, and her senses reeled from the shock. She detested them, yet was fascinated by them. They were so powerful, their emotions raw and untamed. And just when she thought she would hate and despise them forever, one stepped apart from the others.

Alhana looked up into Sturm’s grieved face and saw etched there pride, nobility, strict inflexible discipline constant striving for perfection—perfection unattainable. And thus the deep sorrow in his eyes. Alhana felt herself drawn to this man—this human. Yielding to his strength, comforted by his presence, she felt a sweet, searing warmth steal over her, and suddenly she realized she was in more danger from this fire than from the fire of a thousand dragons.

‘We better go,’ Sturm whispered gently, but to his amazement Alhana pushed herself away from him.

‘Here we part,’ she said, her voice cold as the night wind. ‘I must return to my lodging. Thank you for escorting me.’

‘What?’ Sturm said. ‘Go by yourself? That’s madness.’ He reached out and gripped her arm. ‘I cannot allow—’ The wrong thing to do, he realized, feeling her stiffen. She did not move but simply stared at him imperiously until he released her.

‘I have friends of my own,’ she said, ‘as you do. Your loyalty is to them. My loyalty is to mine. We must go our separate ways.’ Her voice faltered at the look of intense pain on Sturm’s face, still wet with tears. For a moment Alhana could not bear it and wondered if she would have the strength to continue. Then she thought of her people—depending on her. She found the strength. ‘I thank you for your kindness and your help, but now I must go, while the streets are empty.’

Sturm stared at her, hurt and puzzled. Then his face hardened. ‘I was happy to be of service, Lady Alhana. But you are still in danger. Allow me to take you to your lodgings, then I will trouble you no more.’

‘That is quite impossible,’ Alhana said, gritting her teeth to keep her jaw set firmly. ‘My lodgings are not far, and my friends wait for me. We have a way out of the city. Forgive me for not taking you, but I am never certain about trusting humans.’

Sturm’s brown eyes flashed. Alhana, standing close, could feel his body tremble. Once more she nearly lost her resolve.

‘I know where you are staying,’ she said, swallowing. ‘The Red Dragon Inn. Perhaps—if I find my friends—we could offer you help—’

‘Do not concern yourself.’ Sturm’s voice echoed her coldness. ‘And do not thank me. I did nothing more than my Code required of me. Farewell,’ he said, and started to walk away.

Then, remembering, he turned back. Drawing the sparkling diamond pin from his belt, he placed it in Alhana’s hand. ‘Here,’ he said. Looking into her dark eyes, the suddenly saw the pain she tried to hide. His voice softened, though he could not understand. ‘I am pleased you trusted me with this gem,’ he said gently, ‘even for a few moments.’

The elfmaid stared at the jewel for an instant, then she began to shake. Her eyes lifted to Sturm’s eyes and she saw in them not scorn, as she expected, but compassion. Once more, she wondered at humans. Alhana dropped her head, unable to meet his gaze, and took his hand in hers. Then she laid the jewel in has palm and closed his fingers over it.

‘Keep this,’ she said softly. ‘When you look at it, think of Alhana Starbreeze and know that, somewhere, she thinks of you.’

Sudden tears flooded the knight’s eyes. He bowed his head, unable to speak. Then, kissing the gem, he placed it carefully back into his belt and he reached out his hands, but Alhana drew back into the doorway, her pale face averted.

‘Please go,’ she said. Sturm stood for a moment, irresolute, but he could not—in honor—refuse to obey her request. The knight turned and plunged back into the nightmarish street.

Alhana watched him from the doorway for a moment, a protective shell hardening around her. ‘Forgive me, Sturm,’ she whispered to herself. Then she stopped. ‘No, do not forgive me,’ she said harshly. ‘Thank me.’

Closing her eyes, she conjured up an image in her mind and sent a message speeding to the outskirts of the city where her friends waited to carry her from this world of humans. Receiving their telepathic answer in reply, Alhana sighed and began anxiously to scan the smoke-filled skies, waiting.

‘Ah,’ said Raistlin calmly as the first horn calls shattered the stillness of the afternoon, ‘I told you so.’

Riverwind cast an irritated glance at the mage, even as he tried to think what to do. It was all very well for Tanis to say protect the group from the town guards, but to protect them from armies of draconians, from dragons! Riverwind’s dark eyes went over the group. Tika rose to her feet, her hand on her sword. The young girl was brave and steady, but unskilled. The Plainsman could still see the scars on her hand where she had cut herself.

‘What is it?’ Elistan asked, looking bewildered.

‘The Dragon Highlord, attacking the city,’ Riverwind answered harshly, trying to think.

He heard a clanking sound. Caramon was getting up, the big warrior appearing calm and unperturbed. Thank goodness for that. Even though Riverwind detested Raistlin, he had to admit that the mage and his warrior brother combined steel and magic effectively. Laurana, too, he saw, appeared cool and resolute, but then she was an elf—Riverwind had never really learned to trust elves.

‘Get out of the city, if we don’t return,’ Tanis had told him. But Tanis hadn’t foreseen this! They would get out of the city only to meet the armies of the Dragon Highlords on the Plains. Riverwind now had an excellent idea who had been watching them as they traveled to this doomed place. He swore to himself in his own language, then—even as the first dragons swept down over the city—he felt Goldmoon’s arm around him. Looking down, he saw her smile—the smile of Chieftain’s Daughter—and he saw the faith in her eyes. Faith in the gods, and faith in him. He relaxed, his brief moment of panic gone.

A shock wave hit the building. They could hear the screams in the streets below, the roaring whoosh of the fires.

‘We’ve got to get off this floor, back to ground level,’ Riverwind said. ‘Caramon, bring the knight’s sword and the other weapons. If Tanis and the others are—’ he stopped. He had been about to say, ‘still alive,’ then saw Laurana’s face. ‘If Tanis and the others escape, they’ll return here. We’ll wait for them.’

‘Excellent decision!’ hissed the mage caustically. ‘Especially as we have nowhere else to go!’’

Riverwind ignored him. ‘Elistan, take the others downstairs. Caramon and Raistlin, stay with me a moment’ After they were gone, he said swiftly, ‘Our best chance, the way I see it, is to stay inside, barricade ourselves in the Inn. The streets will be deadly.’

‘How long do you think we can hold out?’ Caramon asked.

Riverwind shook his head. ‘Hours, maybe,’ he said briefly.

The brothers looked at him, each of them thinking about the tortured bodies they had seen in the village of Que-Shu, of what they had heard about the destruction of Solace.

‘We cannot be taken alive,’ Raistlin whispered.

Riverwind took a deep breath. We’ll hold out as long as we can,’ he said, his voice shaking slightly ‘but when we know we can last no longer—’ He stopped, unable to continue, his hand on his knife, thinking of what he must do.

‘There will be no need for that,’ Raistlin said softly. ‘I have herbs. A tiny bit in a glass of wine. Very quick, painless.’

‘Are you certain?’ Riverwind asked.

‘Trust me,’ Raistlin replied. ‘I am skilled in the art. The art of herb lore,’ he amended smoothly, seeing the Plainsman shudder.

‘If I am alive,’ Riverwind said softly, ‘I will give her— them—the drink myself. If not—’

‘I understand. You may trust me,’ the mage repeated.

‘What about Laurana?’ Caramon asked. ‘You know elves. She won’t—’

‘Leave it to me,’ Raistlin repeated softly.

The Plainsman stared at the mage, feeling horror creep over him. Raistlin stood before him cooly, his arms folded in the sleeves of his robe, his hood pulled up over his head. Riverwind looked at his dagger, considering the alternative. No, he couldn’t do it. Not that way.

‘Very well,’ he said, swallowing. He paused, dreading to go downstairs and face the others. But the sounds of death in the street were growing louder. Riverwind turned abruptly and left the brothers alone.

‘I will die fighting,’ Caramon said to Raistlin, trying to speak in a matter-of-fact tone. After the first few words, though, the big warrior’s voice broke. ‘Promise me, Raist, you’ll take this stuff if I’m . . . not there. . . .’

‘There will be no need,’ Raistlin said simply. ‘I have not the strength to survive a battle of this magnitude. I will die within my magic.’

Tanis and Gilthanas fought their way through the crowd, the stronger half-elf holding onto the elf as they shoved and clawed and pushed through the panicked masses. Time and again, they ducked for shelter from the dragons. Gilthanas wrenched his knee, fell into a doorway, and was forced to limp in agony, leaning on Tanis’s shoulder.

The half-elf breathed a prayer of thankfulness when he saw the Red Dragon Inn, a prayer that changed to a curse when he saw the black reptilian forms surging around the front. He dragged Gilthanas, who had been stumbling along blindly, exhausted by pain, back into a recessed doorway.

‘Gilthanas!’ Tanis shouted. ‘The Inn! It’s under attack!’

Gilthanas raised glassy eyes and stared uncomprehendingly. Then, apparently understanding, he sighed and shook his head. ‘Laurana,’ he gasped, and he pushed himself forward, trying to stagger out of the doorway. ‘We’ve got to reach them.’ He collapsed in Tanis’s arms.

‘Stay here,’ the half-elf said, helping him sit down. ‘You’re not capable of moving. I’ll try and get through. I’ll go around the block and come in from the back.’

Tanis ran forward, darting in and out of doorways, hiding in the wreckage. He was about a block from the Inn where he heard a hoarse shout. Turning to look, he saw Flint gesturing wildly. Tanis dashed across the street.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Why aren’t you with the others—’ The half-elf stopped. ‘Oh, no,’ he whispered.

The dwarf, his face smudged with ash and streaked with tears, knelt beside Tasslehoff. The kender was pinned beneath a beam that had fallen in the street. Tas’s face, looking like the face of a wise child, was ashen, his skin clammy.

‘Blasted, rattle-brained kender,’ Flint moaned. ‘Had to go and let a house fall on him.’ The dwarf’s hands were torn and bleeding from trying to lift a beam that would take three men or one Caramon to get off the kender. Tanis put his hand to Tas’s neck. The lifebeat was very weak.

‘Stay with him!’ Tanis said unnecessarily. ‘I’m going to the Inn. I’ll bring Caramon!’

Flint looked up at him grimly, then glanced over at the Inn. Both could hear the yells of the draconians, see their weapons flash in the glare of the firelight. Occasionally an unnatural light flared from the Inn—Raistlin’s magic. The dwarf shook his head. He knew Tanis was about as capable of returning with Caramon as he was of flying.

But Flint managed to smile. ‘Sure, lad, I’ll stay with him. Farewell, Tanis.’

Tanis swallowed, tried to answer, then gave up and ran on down the street.

Raistlin, coughing until he could barely stand, wiped blood from his lips and drew a small, black leather pouch from the innermost packets of his robes. He had just one spell left and barely energy enough to cast it. Now, his hands shaking with fatigue, he tried to scatter the contents of the little pouch into a pitcher of wine he had ordered Caramon to bring him before the battle started. But his hand trembled violently, and his coughing spasms doubled him over.

Then he felt another hand grasp his own. Looking up, he saw Laurana. She took the pouch from his frail fingers. Her own hand was stained with the dark green draconian blood.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘Ingredients for a spell.’ The mage choked. ‘Pour it into the wine.’

Laurana nodded and poured in the mixture as instructed. It vanished instantly.

‘Don’t drink it,’ the mage warned when the coughing spasm passed.

Laurana looked at him. ‘What is it?’

‘A sleeping potion,’ Raistlin whispered, his eyes glittering.

Laurana smiled wryly. ‘You don’t think we’re going to be able to get to sleep tonight?’

‘Not that kind,’ Raistlin answered, staring at her intently. ‘This one feigns death. The heartbeat slows to almost nothing, the breathing nearly stops, the skin grows cold and pale, the limbs stiffen.’

Laurana’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why—’ she began.

‘To be used as a last resort. The enemy thinks you are dead, leaves you on the field—if you are lucky. If not—’

‘If not?’ she prompted, her face pale.

‘Well, a few have been known to waken on their own funeral pyres,’ Raistlin said coolly. ‘I don’t believe that is likely to happen to us, however.’

Breathing more easily, he sat down, ducking involuntarily as a spent arrow .fluttered overhead and fell to the floor behind him. He saw Laurana’s hand tremble then and realized she was not as calm as she was forcing herself to appear.

‘Are you intending that we take this?’ she asked.

‘It will save us from being tortured by draconians.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Trust me,’ the mage said with a slight smile.

Laurana glanced at him and shivered. Absently, she wiped blood-stained fingers on her leather armor. The blood did not come off, but she didn’t notice. An arrow thudded next to her. She didn’t even start, just stared at it dully.

Caramon appeared, stumbling out of the smoke of the burning common room. He was bleeding from an arrow wound in the shoulder, his own red blood mingling oddly with the green blood of his enemy.

‘They’re breaking down the front door,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Riverwind ordered us back here.’

‘Listen!’ Raistlin warned. ‘That’s not the only place they’re breaking in!’ There was a splintering crash at the door leading from the kitchen to the back alley.

Ready to defend themselves, Caramon and Laurana whirled just as the door shattered. A tall, dark figure entered.

‘Tanis!’ Laurana cried. Sheathing her weapon, she ran toward him.

‘Laurana!’ he breathed. Catching her in his arms, he held her close, nearly sobbing in his relief. Then Caramon flung his huge arms around both of them.

‘How is everyone?’ Tanis asked, when he could talk.

‘So far, so good,’ Caramon said, peering behind Tanis, His face fell when he saw he was alone. ‘Where’s—’

‘Sturm’s lost,’ Tanis said wearily. ‘Flint and Tas are across the street. The kender’s pinned under a beam. Gilthanas is about two blocks away. He’s hurt,’ Tanis told Laurana, ‘not badly, but he couldn’t make it any farther.’

‘Welcome, Tanis,’ Raistlin whispered, coughing. ‘You have come in time to die with us.’

Tanis looked at the pitcher, saw the black pouch lying near it, and stared at Raistlin in sudden shock.

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘We’re not going to die. At least not like th—’ he broke off abruptly. ‘Get everyone together.’

Caramon lumbered off, yelling at the top of his lungs. Riverwind ran in from the common room where he had been firing the enemy’s arrows back at them, his own having run out long ago. The others followed him, smiling hopefully at Tanis.

The sight of their faith in him infuriated the half-elf. Someday, he thought, I’m going to fail them. Maybe I already have. He shook his head angrily.

‘Listen!’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the draconians outside. ‘We can try and escape out the back! Only a small force is attacking the Inn. The main part of the army isn’t in the city yet.’

‘Somebody’s after us,’ Raistlin murmured.

Tanis nodded. ‘So it would appear. We haven’t much time. If we can make it into the hills—’

He suddenly fell silent, raising his head. They all fell silent, listening, recognizing the shrill scream, the creak of giant leather wings, coming nearer and nearer.

‘Take cover!’ Riverwind yelled. But it was too late.

There was a screaming whine and a boom. The Inn, three stories tall and built of stone and wood, shook as if it were made of sand and sticks. The air exploded with dust and debris. Flames erupted outside. Above them, they could hear the sound of wood splitting and breaking, the thud of falling timber. The building began to collapse in on itself.

The companions watched in stunned fascination—paralyzed by the sight of the gigantic ceiling beams shuddering beneath the strain as the roof caved in onto the upper floors.

‘Get out!’ Tanis shouted. ‘The whole place is— ‘

The beam directly above the half-elf gave a great groan, then split and cracked. Gripping Laurana around the waist, Tanis flung her as far from him as he could and saw Elistan, standing near the front of the Inn, catch her in his arms.

As the huge beam above Tanis gave way with a shuddering snap, he heard the mage shriek strange words. Then he was falling, falling into blackness—and it seemed that the world fell on top of him.

Sturm rounded a corner to see the Inn of the Red Dragon collapse in a cloud of flame and smoke as a dragon soared in the sky above it. The knight’s heart beat wildly with grief and fear.

He ducked into a doorway, hiding in the shadows as some draconians passed him—laughing and talking in their cold, guttural language. Apparently they assumed this job was finished and were seeking other amusement. Three others, he noticed—dressed in blue uniforms, not red—appeared extremely upset at the Inn’s destruction, shaking their fist at the red Dragon overhead.

Sturm felt the weakness of despair sweep over him. He sagged against the door, watching the draconians dully, wondering what to do next. Were they all still in there? Perhaps they had escaped. Then his heart gave a painful bound. He saw a flash of white.

‘Elistan!’ he cried, watching the cleric emerge from the rubble, dragging someone with him. The draconians, swords drawn, ran toward the cleric, calling out in Common for him to surrender. Sturm yelled the challenge of a Solamnic knight to an enemy and ran out from his doorway. The draconians whirled about, considerably disconcerted to see the knight.

Sturm became dimly aware that another figure was running with him. Glancing to his side, he saw the flash of firelight off a metal helm and heard the dwarf roaring. Then, from a doorway, he heard words of magic.

Gilthanas, unable to stand without help, had crawled out and was pointing at the draconians, reciting his spell. Flaming darts leaped from his hands. One of the creatures fell over, clutching its burning chest. Flint leaped on another, beating it over the head with a rock, while Sturm felled the other draconian with a blow from his fists. Sturm caught Elistan in his arms as the man staggered forward. The cleric was carrying a woman.

‘Laurana!’ Gilthanas cried from the doorway.

Dazed and sick from the smoke, the elfmaid lifted her glazed eyes. ‘Gilthanas?’ she murmured. Then, looking up, she saw the knight. ‘Sturm,’ she said confusedly, pointing behind her vaguely. ‘Your sword, it’s here. I saw it—’

Sure enough, Sturm saw a flash of silver, barely visible beneath the rubble. His sword, and next to it was Tanis’s sword, the elven blade of Kith-Kanan. Moving aside piles of stone, Sturm reverently lifted the swords that lay like artifacts within a hideous, gigantic cairn. The knight listened for movement, calls, cries. There was only a dreadful silence.

‘We’ve got to get out here,’ he said slowly, without moving. He looked at Elistan, who was staring back at the wreckage, his face deathly pale. ‘The others?’

‘They were all in there,’ Elistan said in a trembling voice. ‘And the half-elf. . .’

‘Tanis?’

‘Yes. He came through the back door, just before the dragon hit the Inn. They were all together, in the very center. I was standing beneath a doorway. Tanis saw the beams breaking. He threw Laurana. I caught her, then the ceiling collapsed on top of them. There’s no way they could have-’

‘I don’t believe it!’ Flint said fiercely, leaping into the rubble. Sturm grasped hold of him, yanked him back.

‘Where’s Tas?’ the knight asked the dwarf sternly.

The dwarf’s face fell. ‘Pinned uder a beam,’ he said, his face gray with grief and sorrow. He clutched at his hair wildly, knocking off his helm. ‘I’ve got to go back to him. But I can’t leave them—Caramon—’ The dwarf began to cry, tears streaming into his beard. ‘That big, dumb ox! I need him. He can’t do this to me! And Tanis, too!’ The dwarf swore. ‘Damn it, I need them!’

Sturm put his hand on Flint’s shoulder. ‘Go back to Tas. He needs you now. There are draconian roaming the streets. ‘We’ll be all— ‘

Laurana screamed, a terrifying, pitiful sound that pierced Sturm like a spear. Turning he caught hold of her just as she started to rush into the debris.

‘Laurana!’ he cried. ‘Look at that! Look at it!’ He shook her in his own anguish. ‘Nothing could be alive in there!’

‘You don’t know that!’ she screamed at him in fury, tearing away from his grasp. Falling onto her hands and knees, she tried to lift one of the blackened stones. ‘Tanis!’ she cried. The stone was so heavy, she could only move it a few inches.

Sturm watched, heartsick, uncertain what to do. Then he had his answer. Horns! Nearer and nearer. Hundreds, thousands of horns. The armies were invading. He looked at Elistan, who nodded in sorrowful understanding. Both men hurried over to Laurana.

‘My dear,’ Elistan began gently, ‘there’s nothing you can do for them. The living need you. Your brother is hurt, so is the kender. The draconian are invading. We must either escape now, and keep fighting these horrible monsters, or waste our lives in useless grief. Tanis gave his life for you, Laurana. Don’t let it be a needless sacrifice.’

Laurana stared up at him, her face black with soot and filth, streaked with tears and blood. She heard the horns, she heard Gilthanas calling, she heard Flint shouting something about Tasslehoff dying, she heard Elistan’s words. And then the rain began, dripping from the skies as the heat of the dragonfire melted the snow, changing it to water.

The rain ran down her face, cooling her feverish skin.

‘Help me, Sturm,’ she whispered through lips almost too numb to shape the words. He put his arm around her. She stood up, dizzy and sick with shock.

‘Laurana!’ her brother called. Elistan was right. The living needed her. She must go to him. Though she would rather lie down on this pile of rocks and die, she must go on. That was what Tanis would do. They needed her. She must go on.

‘Farewell, Tanthalas,’ she whispered.

The rain increased, pouring down gently, as if the gods themselves wept for Tarsis the Beautiful.

Water dripped on his head. It was irritating, cold. Raistlin tried to roll over, out of the way of the water. But he couldn’t move. There was a heavy weight pressing down on top of him. Panicking, he tried desperately to escape. As fear surged through his body, he came fully to consciousness. With knowledge, panic vanished. Raistlin was in control once more and, as he had been taught, he forced himself to relax and study the situation.

He could see nothing. It was intensely dark, so he was forced to rely on his other senses. First, he had to get this weight off. He was being smothered and crushed. Cautiously he moved his arms. There was no pain, nothing appeared broken. Reaching up, he touched a body. Caramon, by the armor—and the smell. He sighed. He might have known. Using all his strength, Raistlin shoved his brother aside and crawled out from under him.

The mage breathed more easily, wiping water from his face. He located his brother’s neck in the darkness and felt for the lifebeat. It was strong, the man’s flesh was warm, his breathing regular. Raistlin lay back down on the floor in relief. At least, wherever he was, he wasn’t alone.

Where was he? Raistlin reconstructed those last few terrifying moments. He remembered the beam splitting and Tanis throwing Laurana out from under it. He remembered casting a spell, the last one he had strength enough to manage. The magic coursed through his body, creating around him and those near him a force capable of shielding them from physical objects. He remembered Caramon hurling himself on top of him, the building collapsing around them, and a falling sensation.

Falling . . .

Ah, Raistlin understood. We must have crashed through the floor into the Inn’s cellar. Groping around the stone floor, the mage suddenly realized he was soaked through. Finally, however, he found what he lead been searching for—the Staff of Magius. Its crystal was unbroken; only dragonfire could damage the Staff given him by Par-Salian in the Towers of High Sorcery.

‘Shirak,’ whispered Raistlin, and the Staff flared into light. Sitting up, he glanced around. Yes, he was right. They were in the cellar of the Inn. Broken bottles of wine spilled their contents onto the floor. Casks of ale were split in two. It wasn’t all water he had been lying in.

The mage flashed the light around the floor. There were Tanis, Riverwind, Goldmoon, and Tika, all huddled near Caramon. They seemed all right, he thought, giving them a quick inspection. Around them lay scattered debris. Half of the beam slanted down through the rubble to rest on the stone floor. Raistlin smiled. A nice bit of work, that spell. Once more they were in his debt.

If we don’t perish from the cold, he reminded himself bitterly. His body was shaking so he could barely hold the staff. He began to cough. This would be the death of him. They had to get out.

‘Tanis,’ he called, reaching out to shake the half-elf.

Tanis lay crumpled at the very edge of Raistlin’s magic, protective circle. He murmured and stirred. Raistlin shook him again. The half-elf cried out, reflexively covering his head with his arm.

‘Tanis, you’re safe,’ Raistlin whispered, coughing. ‘Wake up.’

‘What?’ Tanis sat bolt upright, staring around him. ‘Where—’ Then he remembered. ‘Laurana?’

‘Gone.’ Raistlin shrugged. ‘You threw her out of danger—’

‘Yes. . .’ Tanis said, sinking back down. ‘And I heard you say words, magic—’

That’s why we’re not crushed.’ Raistlin clutched his sopping wet robes around him, shivering, and drew nearer Tanis, who was staring around as if he’d fallen onto a moon.

‘Where in the name of the Abyss -’

‘We’re in the cellar of the Inn,’ the mage said. ‘The floor gave way and dropped us down here,’

Tanis looked up. ‘By all the gods,’ he whispered in awe.

‘Yes,’ Raistlin said, his gaze following Tanis’s. ‘We’re buried alive.’

Beneath the ruins of the Red Dragon Inn, the companions took stock of their situation. It did not look hopeful. Goldmoon treated their injuries, which were not serious, thanks to Raistlin’s spell. But they had no idea how long they had been unconscious or what was happening above them. Worse still, they had no idea how they could escape.

Caramon tried cautiously to move some of the rocks above their heads, but the whole structure creaked and groaned. Raistlin reminded him sharply that he had no energy to cast more spells, and Tanis wearily told the big man to forget it. They sat in the water that was growing deeper all the time.

As Riverwind stated, it seemed to be a matter of what killed them first: lack of air, freezing to death, the Inn falling down on top of them, or drowning.

‘We could shout for help,’ suggested Tika, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘Add draconians to the list, then,’ Raistlin snapped. ‘They’re the only creatures up there liable to hear you.’

Tika’s face flushed, and she brushed her hard quickly across her eyes. Caramon cast a reproachful glance at his brother, then put his arm around Tika and held her close. Raistlin gave them both a look of disgust.

‘I haven’t heard a sound up there,’ Tanis said, puzzled. ‘You’d think the dragons and the armies—’ He stopped, his glance meeting Caramon’s, both soldiers nodding slowly in sudden grim understanding.

‘What?’ asked Goldmoon, looking at them.

‘We’re behind enemy lines,’ Caramon said. ‘The armies of draconians occupy the town. And probably the land for miles and miles around. There’s no way out, and nowhere to go if there were a way out.’

As if to emphasize his words, the companions heard sounds above them. Guttural draconian voices that they had come to know all too well drifted down through to them.

‘I tell you, this is a waste of time,’ whined another voice, goblin by the sound, speaking in Common. ‘There’s no one alive in this mess’

‘Tell that to the Dragon Highlord, you miserable dog-eaters,’ snarled the draconian. ‘I’m sure his lordship’ll be interested in your opinion. Or rather, his dragon’ll be interested. You have your orders. Now dig, all of you.’

There were sounds of scraping, sounds of stones being dragged aside, Rivulets of dirt and dust started to sift down through the cracks. The big beam shivered slightly but held.

The companions stared at each other, almost holding their breaths, each remembering the strange draconians who had attacked the Inn. ‘Somebody’s after us,’ Raistlin had said.

‘What are we looking for in this rubble?’ croaked a goblin in the goblin tongue. ‘Silver? Jewels?’

Tanis and Caramon, who spoke a little goblin, strained to hear.

‘Naw’ said the first goblin, who had grumbled about orders. ‘Spies or some such wanted personally by the Dragon Highlord for questioning.’

‘In here?` the goblin asked in amazement.

‘That’s what I said’ snarled his companion. ‘You saw how far I got. The lizardmen say they had them trapped in the Inn when the dragon hit it. Said none of them escaped, and so the Highlord figures they must still be here. If you ask me—the dracos screwed up and now we’ve got to pay for their mistakes.’

The sounds of digging and of rack moving grew louder, as did the sound of goblin voices, occasionally punctuated by a sharp order in the guttural voice of the draconians. There must be fifty of them up there! Tanis thought, stunned.

Riverwind quietly lifted his sword out of the water and began wiping, it dry. Caramon, his usually cheerful face somber, released Tika and found his sword. Tanis didn’t have a sword, Riverwind tossed him his dagger. Tika started to draw her sword, but Tanis shook his head. They would be fighting in close quarters, and Tika needed lots of room. The half-elf looked questioningly at Raistlin.

The mage shook his head. ‘I will try, Tanis,’ he whispered. ‘But I am very tired. Very tired. And I can’t think, I can’t concentrate.’ He bowed his head, shivering violently in his wet robes. He was exerting all his effort not to cough and give them away, muffling his choking in his sleeve.

One spell will finish him, if he gets that off, Tanis realized. Still, he maybe luckier than the rest of us. At least he won’t be taken alive.

The sounds above them grew louder and louder. Goblins are strong, tireless workers. They wanted to finish this job quickly, then get back to looting Tarsis. The companions waited in grim silence below. An almost steady stream of dirt and crushed rock dropped down upon them, along with fresh rainwater. They gripped their weapons. It was only a matter of minutes, maybe, before they were discovered.

Then, suddenly, there were new sounds. They heard the goblins yell in fear, the draconians shout to them, ordering them back to work. But they could hear the sounds of shovels and picks being dropped down onto the rocks above them, then the cursing of the draconians as they tried to stop what was apparently a full-scale goblin revolt.

And above the noise of the shrieking goblins rose a loud, clean, high-pitched call, which was answered by another call farther away. It was like the call of an eagle, soaring above the plains at sunset. But this call was right above them.

There was a scream—a draconian. Then a rending sound— as if the body of the creature were being ripped apart. More screams, the clash of steel being drawn, another call and another answer—this one much, nearer.

‘What is that?` Caramon asked, his eyes wide. ‘It isn’t a dragon. It sounds like—like some gigantic bird of prey!’

‘Whatever it is, it’s tearing the draconians to shreds!’ Goldmoon said in awe as they listened. The screaming sounds stopped abruptly, leaving a silence behind that was almost worse. What new evil replaced the old?

Then came the sound of rocks and stones, mortar and timber being lifted and sent crashing to the streets, Whatever was up there was intent on reaching them!

‘It’s eaten all the draconians,’ whispered Caramon gruffly, ‘and now it’s after us!’

Tika turned deathly white, clutching at Caramon’s arm. Goldmoon gasped softly and even Riverwind appeared to lose some of his stoic composure, staring intently upward.

‘Caramon,’ Raistlin said, shivering, ‘shut up!’

Tanis felt inclined to agree with the mage. ‘We’re all scaring ourselves over noth—’ he began. Suddenly there was a rending crash. Stone and rubble, mortar and timber clattered down around them. They scrambled for cover as a huge, clawed foot plunged through the debris, its talons gleaming in the light of Raistlin’s staff.

Helplessly seeking shelter beneath broken beams or under the casks of ale, the companions watched in wonder as the gigantic claw extricated itself from the rubble and withdrew, leaving behind it a wide, gaping hole.

All was silent. For a few moments, none of the companions dared move. But the silence remained unbroken.

‘This is our chance,’ Tanis whispered loudly. ‘Caramon, see what’s up there.’

But the big warrior was already creeping out of his hiding place, moving across the rubble-strewn floor as best he could. Riverwind followed behind, his sword drawn.

‘Nothing,’ said Caramon, puzzled, peering up.

Tanis, feeling naked without his sword, came over to stand beneath the hole, gazing upward. Then, to his amazement, a dark figure appeared above them, silhouetted against the burning sky. Behind the figure towered a large beast. They could just make out the head off a gigantic eagle, its eyes glittering in the firelight, its wickedly curved beak gleaming in the flames.

The companions shrank back, but it was too late. Obviously the figure had seen them. It stepped nearer. Riverwind thought—too late—of his bow. Caramon pulled Tika close with one hand, holding his sword in his other.

The figure, however, simply knelt down near the edge of the hole, being careful of its footing among the loose stones, and removed the hood covering its head.

‘We meet again, Tanis Half-Elven,’ said a voice as cool and pure and distant as the stars.