2

The golden span.

Up and up into the hills they climbed, the draconians in pursuit of the group, who now appeared to them to be spies.

The group had lost the trail Caramon used chasing after Berem, but could not take time to search for it. They were considerably startled, therefore, when they suddenly came across Caramon, sitting calmly on a boulder, Berem—unconscious— stretched out beside him.

‘Whathappened?’Tanisasked,breathingheavily, exhausted after the long climb.

‘I caught up with him, finally.’ Caramon shook his head. ‘And he put up a fight. He’s strong for an old guy, Tanis. I had to clunk him. I’m afraid I was a bit too hard, though,’ he added, staring down at the comatose figure remorsefully.

‘Great!’ Tanis was too tired even to swear.

‘I’ll handle this,’ Tika said, reaching into a leather pouch.

‘The draconians are coming up past that last big rock,’ Flint reported as he stumbled into view. The dwarf seemed about done in. He collapsed onto a rock, mopping his sweating face with the end of his beard.

‘Tika—’ Tanis began.

‘Found it!’ she said triumphantly, pulling out a small vial. Kneeling down beside Berem, she took the stopper from the vial and waved it under his nose. The unconscious man drew a breath, then immediately began to cough.

Tika slapped him on the cheeks. ‘On your feet!’ she said in her barmaid voice. ‘Unless you want the draconians to catch you.’

Berem’s eyes flew open in alarm. Clutching his head, he sat up dizzily. Caramon helped him stand.

‘That’s wonderful, Tika!’ Tas said in excitement. ‘Let me—’ Before she could stop him, Tas grabbed the vial and held it up to his own nose, inhaling deeply.

‘Eeee Ahhhh!’ The kender gagged, staggering back into Fiz ban, who had come up the path after Flint. ‘Ugh! Tika! That’s . . . awful!’ He could barely speak. ‘What is it?’

‘Some concoction of Otik’s,’ Tika said, grinning. ‘All of us barmaids carried it. Came in handy in lots of instances, if you take my meaning.’ Her smile slipped. ‘Poor Otik,’ she said softly. ‘I wonder what’s become of him. And the Inn—’

‘No time for that now, Tika.’ Tanis said impatiently. ‘We’ve got to go. On your feet, old man!’ This to Fizban, who was just sitting down comfortably.

‘I’ve got a spell,’ Fizban protested as Tas tugged and prodded him up. ‘Take care of those pests instantly. Poof!’

‘No!’ Tanis said. ‘Absolutely not. With my luck, you’d turn them all into trolls.’

‘I wonder if I could . . .’ Fizban’s face brightened.

The afternoon sun was just beginning to slide down the rim of the sky when the trail they had been following ever higher into the mountains suddenly branched off into two different directions. One led into the mountain peaks; the other seemed to wind around the side. There might be a pass among the peaks, Tanis thought; a pass they could defend, if necessary.

But before he could say a word, Fizban started off on the trail that wound around the mountain. ‘This way’ the old mage announced, leaning on his staff as he tottered forward.

‘But—’ Tanis started to protest.

‘Come on, come on. This way!’ said Fizban insistently, turning around and glaring at them from beneath his bushy white eyebrows. ‘That way leads to a dead end—in more ways than one. I know. I’ve been here before. This leads around the side of a mountain to a great gorge. Bridge over the gorge. We can get across, then fight the draconians when they try to come after us.’

Tanis scowled, unwilling to trust the crazy old mage.

‘It is a good plan, Tanis,’ Caramon said slowly. ‘It’s obvious we’re going to have to fight them sometime.’ He pointed to the draconians climbing up the mountain trails after them.

Tanis glanced around. They were all exhausted. Tika’s face was pale, her eyes glazed. She leaned on Caramon, who had even left his spears back on the trail to lighten his burden.

Tasslehoff grinned at Tanis cheerfully. But the kender was panting like a small dog and he was limping on one foot.

Berem looked the same as always, sullen and frightened. It was Flint that worried Tanis most. The dwarf had not said a word during their flight. He had kept up with them without faltering, but his lips were blue and his breath came in short gasps. Every once in a while—when he thought no one was looking— Tanis had seen him put his hand over his chest or rub his left arm as if it pained him.

‘Very well.’ The half-elf decided. ‘Go on, old mage. Though I’m probably going to regret this,’ he added, under his breath as the rest hurried along after Fizban.

Near sundown, the companions came to a halt. They stood on a small rocky ledge about three-quarters of the way up the side of the mountain. Before them was a deep, narrow gorge. Far below they could see a river winding its way through the bottom of the gorge like a glistening snake.

It must be a four-hundred-foot drop, Tanis calculated. The trail they stood on hugged the side of the mountain, with sheer cliff on one side and nothing but air on the other. There was only one way across the gorge.

‘And that bridge,’ said Flint—the first words he had spoken in hours, ‘is older than I am . . . and in worse shape.’

‘That bridge has stood for years!’ Fizban said indignantly. ‘Why, it survived the Cataclysm!’

‘I believe it,’ Caramon said sincerely.

‘At least it’s not too long,’ Tika tried to sound hopeful, though her voice faltered.

The bridge across the narrow gorge was of a unique construction. Huge vallenwood limbs were driven into the sides of the mountain on either side of the gorge. These limbs formed an X-shape that supported the wooden plank platform. Long ago, the structure must have been an architectural marvel. But now the wooden planks were rotted and splitting. If there had been a railing, it had long since fallen down into the chasm below. Even as they watched, the timbers creaked and shuddered in the chill wind of evening.

Then, behind them, they heard the sound of guttural voices and the clash of steel on rock.

‘So much for going back,’ Caramon muttered. ‘We should cross over one by one.’

‘No time,’ Tanis said, rising to his feet. ‘We can only hope the gods are with us. And—I hate to admit it—but Fizban’s right. Once we get across, we can stop the draconians easily. They’ll be excellent targets, stuck out there on that bridge. I’ll go first. Keep behind me, single-file. Caramon, you’re rear guard. Berem, stay behind me.’

Moving as swiftly as he dared, Tanis set foot on the bridge. He could feel the planks quiver and shake. Far below, the river flowed swiftly between the canyon walls; sharp rocks jutted up from its white, foaming surface. Tanis caught his breath and looked away quickly.

‘Don’t look down,’ he said to the others, feeling a chill emptiness where his stomach had been. For an instant he couldn’t move, then, getting a grip on himself, he edged his way forward. Berem came right behind him, fear of the dragonmen completely obliterating any other terrors the Everman might have experienced.

After Berem came Tasslehoff, walking lightly with kender skill, peering over the edge in wonder. Then the terrified Flint, supported by Fizban. Finally Tika and Caramon set foot on the shivering planks, keeping nervous watch behind them.

Tanis was nearly halfway across when part of the platform gave way, the rotten wood splintering beneath his feet.

Acting instinctively, in a paroxysm of terror, he clutched desperately at the planking and caught hold of the edge. But the rotten wood crumbled in his grasp. His fingers slipped and—

—a hand closed over his wrist.

‘Berem!’ Tanis gasped. ‘Hold on!’ He forced himself to hang limply, knowing that any movement on his part would only make Berem’s hold on him harder to maintain.

‘Pull him up!’ he heard Caramon roar, then, ‘Don’t anybody move! The whole thing’s liable to give way!’

His face tight with the strain, sweat beading on his forehead, Berem pulled. Tanis saw the muscles on the man’s arm bulge, the veins nearly burst from the skin. With what seemed like agonizing slowness, Berem dragged the half-elf up over the edge of the broken bridge. Here Tanis collapsed. Shaking with fright, he lay clinging to the wood, shivering.

Then he heard Tika cry out. Raising his head, he realized with grim amusement that he had probably just gained his life only to lose it. About thirty draconians appeared on the trail behind them. Tanis turned to look across the gaping hole in the center of the bridge. The other side of the platform was still standing. He might jump across the huge hole to safety, and so might Berem and Caramon—but not Tas, not Flint, not Tika, or the old mage.

‘Excellent targets, you said,’ Caramon murmured, drawing his sword.

‘Cast a spell. Old One!’ Tasslehoff said suddenly.

‘What?’ Fizban blinked.

‘A spell!’ Tas cried, pointing at the draconians, who—seeing the companions trapped on the bridge—hurried up to finish them off.

‘Tas, we’re in enough trouble,’ Tanis began, the bridge creaking beneath his feet. Moving warily, Caramon stationed himself squarely in front of them, facing the draconians.

Fitting an arrow to his bowstring, Tanis fired. A draconian clutched its chest and fell, shrieking, off the cliff. The half-elf fired again and hit again. The draconians in the center of the line hesitated, milling about in confusion. There was no cover, no way to escape the half-elf’s deadly barrage. The draconians in the front of the line surged forward toward the bridge.

At that moment, Fizban began to cast his spell.

Hearing the old mage chant, Tanis felt his heart sink. Then he reminded himself bitterly that they really couldn’t be in a worse position. Berem, next to him, was watching the draconians with a stoic composure that Tanis found startling until he remembered that Berem didn’t fear death; he would always return to life. Tanis fired again and another draconian howled in pain. So intent was he on his targets that he forgot Fizban until he heard Berem gasp in astonishment. Glancing up, Tanis saw Berem staring into the sky. Following Berem’s gaze, the half-elf was so astonished he nearly dropped his bow.

Descending from the clouds, glittering brightly in the dying rays of the sun—was a long golden bridge span. Guided by motions of the old mage’s hand, the golden span dropped down out of the heavens to close the gap in the bridge.

Tanis came to his senses. Looking around, he saw that—for the moment—the draconians were also transfixed—staring at the golden span with glittering reptilian eyes.

‘Hurry!’ Tanis yelled. Gripping Berem by the arm, he dragged the Everman after him and jumped up onto the span as it hovered just about a foot above the gap. Berem followed, stumbling up clumsily. Even as they stood on it, the span kept dropping, slowing a bit under Fizban’s guidance.

The span was still about eight inches above the platform when Tasslehoff, shrieking wildly, leaped onto it, pulling the awestruck dwarf up after him. The draconians—suddenly real izing their prey was going to escape—howled in rage and surged onto the wooden bridge. Tanis stood on the golden span, near its end, firing his arrows at the lead draconians. Caramon remained behind, driving them back with his sword.

‘Get on across!’ Tanis ordered Tika as she hopped onto the span beside him. ‘Stay beside Berem. Keep an eye on him. You, too, Flint, go with her. Go on!’ he snarled viciously.

‘I’ll stay with you, Tanis,’ Tasslehoff offered.

Casting a backward glance at Caramon, Tika reluctantly obeyed orders, grabbing hold of Berem and shoving him along before her. Seeing the draconians coming, he needed little urging. Together they dashed across the span onto the remaining half of the wooden bridge. It creaked alarmingly beneath their weight. Tanis only hoped it would hold, but he couldn’t spare a glance. Apparently it was, for he heard Flint’s thick boots clumping across it.

‘We made it!’ Tika yelled from the side of the canyon.

‘Caramon!’ Tanis shouted, firing another arrow, trying to keep his footing on the golden span.

‘Go ahead!’ Fizban snapped at Caramon irritably. ‘I’m concentrating. I have to set the span down in the right place. A few more centimeters to the left, I think—’

‘Tasslehoff, go on across!’ Tanis ordered.

‘I’m not leaving Fizban!’ said the kender stubbornly as Caramon stepped up onto the golden span. The draconians, seeing the big warrior leaving, surged forward again. Tanis fired arrows as fast as he could; one draconian lay on the bridge in a pool of green blood, another toppled over the edge. But the half-elf was growing tired. Worse, he was running out of arrows. And the draconians kept coming. Caramon came to a stop beside Tanis on the span.

‘Hurry, Fizban!’ pleaded Tasslehoff, wringing his hands.

‘There!’ Fizban said in satisfaction. ‘Perfect fit. And the gnomes said I was no engineer.’

Just as he spoke, the golden span carrying Tanis, Caramon, and Tasslehoff dropped firmly into place between the two sections of the broken bridge.

And at that moment, the other half of the wooden bridge— the half still standing, the half that led to safety on the other side of the canyon—creaked, crumbled, and fell into the canyon.

‘In the name of the gods!’ Caramon gulped in fear, catching hold of Tanis and dragging him back just as the half-elf had been about to set foot on the wooden planking.

‘Trapped!’ Tanis said hoarsely, watching the logs tumble end over end into the ravine, his soul seeming to plummet with them. On the other side, he could hear Tika scream, her cries blending with the exultant shouts of the draconians.

There was a rending, snapping sound. The draconian’s cries of exultation changed at once to horror and fear.

‘Look! Tanis!’ Tasslehoff cried in wild excitement. ‘Look!’

Tanis glanced back in time to see the other part of the wooden bridge tumble into the ravine, carrying with it most of the draconians. He felt the golden span shudder.

‘We’ll fall, too!’ Caramon roared. ‘There’s nothing to support—’

Caramon’s tongue froze to the roof of his mouth. With a strangled gulp, he looked slowly from side to side.

‘I don’t believe it—’ he muttered.

‘Somehow, I do . . .’ Tanis drew a shuddering breath.

In the center of the canyon, suspended in midair, hung the magical golden span, glittering in the light of the setting sun as the wooden bridge on either side of it plunged into the ravine. Upon the span stood four figures, staring down at the ruins beneath them—and across the great gaps between them and the sides of the gorge.

For long moments, there was complete, absolute, deathly silence. Then Fizban turned triumphantly to Tanis.

‘Wonderful spell,’ said the mage with pride. ‘Got a rope?’

It was well after dark by the time the companions finally got off the golden span. Flinging a rope to Tika, they waited while she and the dwarf fastened it securely to a tree. Then—one by one—Tanis, Caramon, Tas, and Fizban swung off the span and were hauled up the side of the cliff by Berem. When they were all across, they collapsed, exhausted from fatigue. So tired were they that they didn’t even bother to find shelter, but spread their blankets in a grove of scrubby pine trees and set the watch. Those not on duty fell instantly asleep.

The next morning, Tanis woke, stiff and aching. The first thing he saw was the sun shining brightly off the sides of the golden span—still suspended solidly in mid-air.

‘I don’t suppose you can get rid of that thing?’ he asked Fizban as the old mage helped Tas hand out a breakfast of quith pa.

‘I’m afraid not . . .’ the old man said, eyeing the span wistfully.

‘He tried a few spells this morning,’ Tas said, nodding in the direction of a pine tree completely covered with cobwebs and another that was burned to a crisp. ‘I figured he better quit before he turned us all into crickets or something.’

‘Good idea,’ muttered Tanis, staring gloomily out at the gleaming span. ‘Well, we couldn’t leave a clearer trail if we painted an arrow on the side of the cliff.’ Shaking his head, he sat down beside Caramon and Tika.

‘They’ll be after us, too, you can bet,’ Caramon said, munching half-heartedly on quith-pa. ‘Have dragons bring ‘em across.’ Sighing, he stuck most of the dried fruit back in his pouch.

‘Caramon?’ said Tika. ‘You didn’t eat much . . .’

‘I’m not hungry,’ he mumbled as he stood up. ‘Guess I’ll scout ahead a ways.’ Shouldering his pack and his weapons, he started off down the trail.

Her face averted, Tika began busily packing away her things, avoiding Tanis’s gaze.

‘Raistlin?’ Tanis asked.

Tika stopped. Her hands dropped into her lap.

‘Will he always be like this, Tanis?’ she asked helplessly, looking fondly after him. ‘I don’t understand!’

‘I don’t either,’ Tanis said quietly, watching the big man disappear into the wilderness. ‘But, then, I never had a brother or a sister.’

‘I understand!’ said Berem. His soft voice quivered with a passion that caught Tanis’s attention.

‘What do you mean?’

But—at his question—the eager, hungry look on the Everman’s face vanished.

‘Nothing—’ he mumbled, his face a blank mask.

‘Wait!’ Tanis rose quickly. ‘Why do you understand Caramon?’ He put his hand on Berem’s arm.

‘Leave me alone!’ Berem shouted fiercely, flinging Tanis backward.

‘Hey, Berem,’ Tasslehoff said, looking up and smiling as if he hadn’t heard a thing. ‘I was sorting through my maps and I found one that has the most interesting story—’

Giving Tanis a hunted glance, Berem shuffled over to where Tasslehoff sat cross-legged on the ground, his sheaf of maps spread out all around him. Hunching down over the maps, the Everman soon appeared lost in wonder, listening to one of Tas’s tales.

‘Better leave him alone, Tanis,’ Flint advised. ‘If you ask me, the only reason he understands Caramon is that he’s as crazy as Raistlin.’

‘I didn’t ask you, but that’s all right,’ Tanis said, sitting down beside the dwarf to eat his own ration of quith-pa. ‘We’re going to have to be going soon. With luck, Tas will find a map—’

Flint snorted. ‘Humpf! A lot of good that will do us. The last map of his we followed took us to a sea port without a sea!’

Tanis hid his smile. ‘Maybe this will be different,’ he said. ‘At least it’s better than following Fizban’s directions.’

‘Well, you’re right there,’ the dwarf admitted grumpily. Giving Fizban a sideways glance, Flint leaned over near Tanis. ‘Didn’t you ever wonder how he managed to live through that fall at Pax Tharkas?’ he asked in a loud whisper.

‘I wonder about a lot of things,’ Tanis said quietly. ‘Like— how are you feeling?’

The dwarf blinked, completely taken aback by the unexpected question. ‘Fine!’ he snapped, his face flushing.

‘It’s just, sometimes I’ve seen you rub your left arm,’ Tanis continued.

‘Rheumatism,’ the dwarf growled. ‘You know it always bothers me in the spring. And sleeping on the ground doesn’t help. I thought you said we should be moving along.’ The dwarf busied himself with packing.

‘Right.’ Tanis turned away with a sigh. ‘Found anything, Tas?’

‘Yes, I think so,’ the kender said eagerly. Rolling up his maps, he stashed them in his map case, then slipped the case into a pouch, taking a quick peek at his golden dragon while he was at it. Although seemingly made of metal, the figurine changed position in the oddest way. Right now, it was curled around a golden ring—Tanis’s ring, one Laurana had given him and he had returned to her, when he told her he was in love with Kitiara. Tasslehoff became so absorbed in staring at the dragon and the ring that he nearly forgot Tanis was waiting.

‘Oh,’ he said, hearing Tanis cough impatiently. ‘Map. Right. Yes, you see, once when I was just a little kender, my parents and I traveled through the Khalkist Mountains—that’s where we are now—on our way to Kalaman. Usually, you know, we took the northern, longer route. There was a fair, every year, at Taman Busuk, where they sold the most marvelous things, and my father never missed it. But one year—I think it was the year after he’d been arrested and put in the stocks over a misunderstanding with a jeweler—we decided to go through the mountains. My mother’d always wanted to see Godshome, so we—’

‘The map?’ interrupted Tanis.

‘Yes, the map.’ Tas sighed. ‘Here. It was my father’s, I think. Here’s where we are, as near as Fizban and I can figure. And here’s Godshome.’

‘What’s that?’

‘An old city. It’s in ruins, abandoned during the Cataclysm—’

‘And probably crawling with draconians,’ Tanis finished.

‘No, not that Godshome,’ Tas continued, moving his small finger over into the mountains near the dot that marked the city. ‘This place is also called Godshome. In fact, it was called that long before there was a city, according to Fizban.’

Tanis glanced at the old mage, who nodded.

‘Long ago, people believed the gods lived there,’ he said solemnly. ‘It is a very holy place.’

‘And it’s hidden,’ added Tas, ‘in a bowl in the center of these mountains. See? No one ever goes there, according to Fizban. No one knows about the trail except him. And there is a trail marked on my map, at least into the mountains . . .’

‘No one ever goes there?’ Tanis asked Fizban.

The old mage’s eyes narrowed in irritation. ‘No.’

‘No one except you?’ Tanis pursued.

‘I’ve been lots of place, Half-Elven!’ The mage snorted. ‘Got a year? I’ll tell you about them!’ He shook a finger at Tanis. ‘You don’t appreciate me, young man! Always suspicious! And after everything I’ve done for you—’

‘Uh, I wouldn’t remind him about that,’ Tas said hurriedly, seeing Tanis’s face darken. ‘Come along. Old One.’

The two hurried off down the trail, Fizban stomping along angrily, his beard bristling.

‘Did the gods really live in this place we’re going to?’ Tas asked him to keep him from bothering Tanis.

‘How should I know?’ Fizban demanded irritably. ‘Do I look like a god?’

‘But—’

‘Did anyone ever tell you that you talk entirely too much?’

‘Almost everyone,’ Tas said cheerfully. ‘Did I ever tell you about the time I found a woolly mammoth?

Tanis heard Fizban groan. Tika hurried past him, to catch up with Caramon.

‘Coming, Flint?’ Tanis called.

‘Yes,’ the dwarf answered, sitting down suddenly on a rock. ‘Give me a moment. I’ve dropped my pack. You go on ahead.’

Occupied in studying the kender’s map as he walked, Tanis did not see Flint collapse. He did not hear the odd note in the dwarf’s voice, or see the spasm of pain that briefly contracted the dwarf’s face.

‘Well, hurry up,’ Tanis said absently. ‘We don’t want to leave you behind.’

‘Aye, lad,’ Flint said softly, sitting on the rock, waiting for the pain to subside—as it always did.

Flint watched his friend walk down the trail, still moving somewhat clumsily in the dragonarmor. We don’t want to leave you behind.

‘Aye, lad,’ Flint repeated to himself. Brushing his gnarled hand quickly across his eyes, the dwarf stood up and followed his friends.