Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 21

She stopped talking. She hadn't meant to speak her thoughts aloud.

"You wish what, my dear?" Elistan asked.

"I wish Tanis could find the same faith," Laurana said at last. "He does not believe in the G.o.ds."

"Tanis will not find faith," said Elistan, smiling. "I think it more likely that faith will find him, much as faith found me."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I do either," Elistan admitted. "My heart is troubled about Tanis, yet Paladine a.s.sures me that I may safely rest those troubles in his hands."

"I hope his hands are very large," said Laurana, sighing.

"As large as heaven," said Elistan.

If Riverwind spoke to Paladine, he did not seem to have found much ease or solace in his communion with the G.o.d. His face was dark and grim as he took his place at the front of the mult.i.tude. His words were not comforting or rea.s.suring. He told the people of Tika's journey. He said the knight, Sturm Brightblade, had discovered the way to Thorbardin (he was vague as to details). Riverwind told them Tika had overheard draconians talking about an army preparing for an a.s.sault on the valley and how she had been attacked by a draconian on her way back to warn them.

Hederick pursed his lips and rolled his eyes and gave a snort. "Tika Waylan is a nice girl, but as some of you will recall, she used to be a barmaid-"

"I believe her," Riverwind said, and his firm tones silenced even Hederick, at least temporarily. "I believe that this valley, once a haven of peace, may soon become a battle ground. If we are attacked here, we have no place to run to, no refuge. We will be trapped like rats to be captured or slaughtered. The G.o.ds have sent us this warning. We do wrong to ignore it. I propose that we leave in the next few days, travel south to Thorbardin, there to meet our friends."

"Come now, be reasonable," said Hederick. He turned to the crowd, raising his hands for silence. "Don't you people find it strange that the G.o.ds chose to deliver this warning to a barmaid instead of someone honored and respected-"

"Such as yourself?" Riverwind said.

"I was going to say, such as Revered Son Elistan," said Hederick humbly "but yes, I think the G.o.ds might also use me as their vessel."

"If they wanted to store ale, perhaps," said Gilthanas in Laurana's ear.

"Hush, brother!" she scolded him. "This is serious!"

"Of course it is, but they won't listen to Riverwind. He is an outsider, as are we." He glanced at Laurana. "You know, for the first time in my life, I begin to understand how alone and isolated Tanis must have felt when he lived among us."

"I don't feel alone among these people," Laurana protested.

"Of course not," Gilthanas answered, frowning. "You have Elistan."

"Oh, Gil, not you too," began Laurana, but he had walked off, going over to stand with the Plainsmen. They said nothing to the elf, but silently and respectfully moved to make room for him among their ranks.

Outsiders together.

Laurana should have gone after him, but she was angry at him, at Tanis, at Tika, at everyone who seemed willfully determined to misconstrue her relations.h.i.+p with Elistan. She worked for Elistan much as she had worked for her father: acting as a diplomat and intermediary. She had a gift for talking to people, a gift for soothing people, helping them work through anger and fear to see reason. She and Elistan were a good team. There was nothing romantic about it! He was, if anything, like a father to her.

Or a brother.

She looked at Gilthanas, and her anger softened to remorse. The two of them had once been very close. She had barely spoken to Gilthanas since she had started working with Elistan. No, it went back further than that. Since Tanis had once more entered her life.

Maybe it wasn't even Tanis, she reflected. Her brother did not approve of her relations.h.i.+p with the half-elf any more now than he'd done in the past. But it was her relations.h.i.+p with all humans that stuck in his craw. She should keep herself aloof from them, hold herself apart.

Like their father, Gilthanas was angry over the fact that the G.o.ds had seen fit to use humans to herald their return. The G.o.ds should have come to the elves, who were, after all, the chosen people. It was the humans whose transgressions had called down the wrath of the G.o.ds on the world.

"We are the good children," said Laurana to herself. "We should not have been punished. But were we really good? Or were we just never caught?"

Elves had no such doubts. Elves were certain of their place in the universe. Humans, on the other hand, were always doubting, always seeking, always questioning. Laurana liked that about humans. She did not feel so alone with her doubts.

The thought occurred to her that she'd never tried to explain this to Gilthanas. She resolved to do so. Help him understand. She looked over at him and smiled to show that she wasn't angry. He saw her but deliberately avoided meeting her eyes. Laurana sighed and brought her attention back to the meeting.

The arguing continued. Elistan supported Riverwind, as did Maritta.

"We all of us saw the dragon," Maritta told them, "with that fiend, Verminaard, on its back. Now one of our own has been attacked here in this valley, or as near this valley as makes no difference. If that isn't a sign that we are no longer safe, I don't know what is."

Yet Hederick's arguments were also persuasive, weighted with the fact that the people were in no danger now, but would be if they left the safety and shelter of caves to venture into the wilds, as was proven by the attack on Tika.

Riverwind could not argue against any of this. The burden lay on his heart, and he acknowledged it simply and openly.

"If we go, some or all of us may die," he said, "but I believe that if we stay and do nothing, if we ignore Tika's warning, we will fall victim to a cruel and brutal enemy."

He was certain, at least, of his own people joining him. The Plainsmen were united in their belief that trouble was coming and they had at last agreed, even the Que Kiri, to accept Riverwind as their chief. Their quiet confidence gave him confidence, as did his time spent with the G.o.d. During his prayers, Riverwind had heard no immortal voice making promises, he'd felt no soothing touch of an immortal hand, but he had come away from the altar with the comforting knowledge that he did not walk alone.

He was about to say more when there was a stir at the entryway. Goldmoon appeared, guiding Tika's faltering steps.

"She insisted on coming," Goldmoon said. "I urged her to rest, but she said she had to speak for herself."

People murmured softly in sympathy. The scratches on her arm had healed, but they were still visible. Pale and weak from the effects of the fever, Tika put aside Goldmoon's hand and stood on her own to have her say.

"I just want to remind all of you who it was who freed you from Pax Tharkas," Tika told them, "who saved you from slavery and death. It wasn't him, the High Theocrat." She cast a scathing glance at Hederick. "It was Tanis Half-Elven and Flint Fireforge, and they've gone to try to find Thorbardin. It was Sturm Brightblade, Caramon Majere, and Raistlin Majere, and they've gone, at great peril, to Skullcap, where they've found a way to enter Thorbardin. It was Riverwind and Goldmoon, who showed you how to survive and healed your hurts.

"They didn't have to do this, any of them. They could have gone off long ago, returned to their homeland, but they didn't. They stayed here and risked their lives to help you. I know it will be hard to leave, but... but I just want you to think about that."

Many did think about it and made their arguments accordingly, speaking out in favor of departing. Others were not so certain. Riverwind allowed the discussion to flow freely, but when the same arguments were being presented time and again, he called a halt.

"My mind is made up. Each of you must do the same. My wife and I and those who are going with us should be ready to depart the day after tomorrow with the first light."

He paused a moment, then added, "The way will be difficult and dangerous, and I cannot promise you that we will find safe haven in Thorbardin or anywhere in this world, for that matter. I can promise you one thing: I pledge my life to you. I will do all I can to stand between you and darkness. I will fight to defend you until the last breath leaves my body."

He left the meeting hall amid silence. His people and Gilthanas accompanied him. Tika insisted on going back to her own cave, saying she would rest better in her bed.

The people gathered around Elistan, seeking his advice and rea.s.surance. Many wanted him to make their decisions for them- should they stay or go? This he would not do, but he insisted that each person must make up his or her own mind. He advised them repeatedly to take their cares and concerns to the G.o.ds, and he was gratified to see some go to the altar. Others, however, stalked off in a huff, demanding to know what good were G.o.ds who could not tell them what to do?

Laurana remained by his side, patiently a.s.sisting him, offering her own rea.s.surances and advice. When the last person left, she felt utterly drained and dejected.

"I never understood before how anyone could knowingly wors.h.i.+p an evil G.o.d. Now I do," she said to Elistan. "If you were a cleric of Takhisis, you would promise these people everything they ever wanted. Your promises would come at a terrible price and they would not be kept, but that wouldn't matter. People refuse to take responsibility for their own lives. They want someone to tell them what to do, and they want someone to blame when it all goes wrong."

"We are in the early days yet of the G.o.ds' return, Laurana," said Elistan. "Our people are like blind men who can suddenly see again. The light blinds them as much or more than the darkness. Give them time."

"Time-the one thing we don't have," Laurana said with a sigh.

In the end, most of the people decided to go with Riverwind. The terror of the dragons flying over their camp did as much to convince them to leave as any of his arguments. Hederick and his followers, however, let it be known that they planned to stay.

"We will be here waiting to welcome those who turn back," Hederick announced, adding in ominous tones, "Those who survive..."

Riverwind worked tirelessly that day and long into the night and all the next day, answering questions, a.s.sisting people to decide what to take, helping them pack. The refugees had made the hard journey from Pax Tharkas to the valley, and they knew already what they would need for the road. Even little children made up their small bundles.

Riverwind could not sleep the night before the departure. He lay awake, staring into the darkness, doubting himself, doubting his decision, until Goldmoon took him in her arms. He kissed her and held her, and matching his breathing to hers, he fell asleep.

Riverwind was up before dawn. The people emerged from their caves in the half-darkness, greeting friends or scolding children, who viewed this departure as a holiday and were behaving with untoward exuberance. Hederick made an appearance, sighing a great deal and bidding people farewell with a mournful air, as though he could already see them dead on the trail.

Riverwind could sense a few people starting to waver in their decisions, and he was determined to set off the moment there was the faintest light in the sky, before they had a chance to change their minds. His scouts had picked up Tanis's blazed trail, and they reported that the first part of the journey would be easy; that would help boost people's spirits and give them confidence.

The day dawned bright and sunny. Just before they started, scouts returned with news that the dwarf's trail led to a hitherto unnoticed pa.s.s between the mountains. Riverwind studied the crude map Flint had drawn up for him and the scouts agreed that his map matched with what they had found. Looking at the map, Riverwind recalled the dwarf's last enigmatic command-bring along pick-axes. Though this meant an added burden for some, he followed the dwarf's order.

The people cheered at news that a pa.s.s had been discovered, taking it for a good omen for the future. The refugees set forth quietly, without undue fuss or bother. Their harsh lives had innured them to hards.h.i.+p. They were accustomed to physical exertion; they had walked miles to reach this place, and they were prepared to walk many more miles. They were in good health. Mishakal had healed their sick. Even Tika was almost back to normal. Laurana noted that her friend was unusually somber and silent and chose to walk by herself, eschewing any offer of company. The wounds of the body had healed; the wounds of the heart were deeper, and not even a G.o.ddess could remedy those.

The sun shone. The day grew warm, with just enough chill in the air to keep the exertion of hiking from overheating anyone. Maritta started singing a marching song, and soon everyone joined in. The refugees made good time, trudging along the trail at a steady pace.

Riverwind felt his burden ease.

That night, after the refugees' departure, Hederick the High Theoocrat sat alone in his cave. He had spent the day regaling those of his followers who had chosen to stay with some of his best speeches. Fewer had chosen to stay han he'd expected, and they had heard all Hederick's harangues before. As darkness fell, they made some excuse to slip away, either going to their beds or gathering by the firelight to play black dots-a gambling game in which white tiles marked with black dots are arranged in various number patterns. Since the High Theocrat had laid down a strict injunction against wagering, the men thought it best to keep their game secret.

Hederick found himself alone without an audience. The night was quiet, unbelievably quiet. He was accustomed to the noise and bustle of the campsite, accustomed to walking around the camp being important. All that was gone now. Though he had taken care not to show it, he was irate that so few people had trusted him enough to stay, choosing instead to go off into the unknown with a crude, uneducated savage. Hederick told himself they would be sorry.

Now that he was alone with time to think, he was the one who was sorry. He sat in the darkness and wondered uneasily what would happen to him if that silly barmaid should turn out to be right.

Chapter 17.

No shadows. Too Many shadows. A Dwarf's Dreams.

The same suns.h.i.+ne that warmed the hearts and spirits of the refugees shone in the sky above Caramon, Raistlin, Sturm, and Tas. The sun brought no warmth or cheer to any of these four, however. They walked a land barren and wasted, a devastated land, bleak, empty, and desolate. They walked the Plains of Dergoth. They had all thought nothing could be worse than wading through the swamp surrounding Skullcap. The water stank of rot and decay. They had no idea what sort of creatures could live beneath the slime-covered water, but something did. They could tell by the ripples on the surface, or sudden dartings around their feet, that they had disturbed some species of swampy denizen. They had to keep close together or lose sight of each other in the thick mists. They were forced to move slowly, with a shuffling gait, to avoid snags and dead branches hidden beneath the water.

Fortunately, the swamp was not large, and they soon left it, emerging from the murk onto ground that was dry, flat, and hard. The mists grasped at them with wispy fingers, but a cold wind soon blew them apart. They could see the sun again, and they thought well of themselves, believing they'd survived the worst. Sturm pointed to a distant mountain range.

"Beneath that peak known as Cloudseeker lies Thorbardin," Prince Grallen told them, and Raistlin cast Caramon a triumphant look.

After a short rest, they continued on, entering the Plains of Dergoth. Soon each one of them began to wish he was somewhere else, even back in the foul miasma they had just left. At least the swamp was alive. The life within was green and slimy, scaly and sinuous, creepy and slithering, but it was life.

Death ruled the Plains of Dergoth. Nothing lived here anymore. Once there had been gra.s.slands and forest, populated by birds and animals. Three hundred years ago, this had been a battlefield, with dwarf battling dwarf in bitter contest. The field had been soaked in blood, the deer slaughtered, the birds fled. The gra.s.s was trampled and trees cut down to make funeral biers on which to burn the corpses. Still, life remained. The trees would have grown back. The gra.s.s would have flourished, the birds and animals returned.

Then came the horrific blast that brought down a mighty fortress and killed all those on both sides. The blast destroyed all living things, tearing life apart with such fury that no little bit of it survived. No trees, no gra.s.s, no beasts, no bugs. No lichen, no moss. Nothing but death. Grotesque piles of twisted, blackened, melted armor and mounds of ash littered the fire-swept ground-all that was left of two great armies whose struggles had ended in a single terrible moment, as the fire devoured their flesh, boiled their blood, and consumed them utterly.

The Plains of Dergoth, standing between Skullcap and Thorbardin, were plains of despair. The sun shone in the blue sky, but its light was cold, like the light of the faraway stars, and held no warmth for any of those forced to cross this dread place that was so horrible it even quenched the spirits of the kender.

Ta.s.slehoff was marching along, staring down at his ash-covered boots, for staring at his boots was better than looking ahead and seeing nothing except nothing, when he noticed something odd. He looked up at the sky and back down at the ground and then said in a tense voice, "Caramon, I've lost my shadow."

Caramon heard the kender, but he pretended he hadn't. He had enough to do worrying about his brother. Raistlin was having a difficult time of it. Whatever strange energy had sustained and strengthened him on the trip to Skullcap appeared to have deserted him at their departure. The trip through the swamp had left him exhausted. He walked slowly, leaning on his staff, every step seeming to cost him an effort.

He refused to stop to rest, however. He insisted that they continue their journey, pointing out that Prince Grallen would not allow them to stop, which was probably true. Caramon was constantly having to reign in Sturm, who marched along at a rapid pace, his gaze fixed on the mountains, or he would have left the slow-moving mage far behind.

"Look, Caramon, you've lost yours, too," said Tas, relieved. "I don't feel so bad."

"Lost what?" Caramon asked, only half-listening.

"Your shadow," Tas said, pointing.

"It is probably near noon time," returned Caramon wearily. "You can't see your shadow when the sun's directly over head."

"That's what I thought," said Tas, "but look at the sun. It's almost on the horizon. Only a couple of hours 'til dark. Nope." He sighed. "Our shadows are gone."

Caramon, feeling silly, actually turned to look for his shadow. Tas was right. The sun was before him, but no shadow stretched out behind him. He could not even see his footprints, which should have shown up clearly in the fine, gray ash. He had the terrible feeling suddenly that he'd ceased to exist.

"We walk a land of death. The living do not belong here," Raistlin said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We cast no shadows. We leave no marks."

Caramon shuddered. "I hate this place."

He balefully eyed Sturm, who had stopped to wait for them and was tapping his foot impatiently. "Raist, what if that accursed helm he's wearing is leading us into a death trap? Maybe we should turn back."

Raistlin thought longingly of returning to Skullcap. He could not account for it, but while he'd been there he'd felt strong and healthy, almost whole again. Out here, he had to force himself to take each step, when what he longed to do was to drop down to the ash-gray ground and sleep in the dust of the dead. He coughed, shook his head, and made a feeble gesture toward the knight.

Caramon understood. Sturm, under the influence of the helm, was bound to go to Thorbardin. If they turned back, he would go on without them.

Raistlin plucked at Caramon's sleeve.

"We must keep moving!" he gasped. "We must not find ourselves benighted in this terrible place!"

"Amen to that, brother!" said Caramon feelingly. He placed his strong arm supportively under his twin's arm, aiding his faltering footsteps, and caught up with Sturm.

"I hope I get my shadow back," said Ta.s.slehoff, trailing behind. "I was fond of it. It used to go everywhere with me."

They slogged on.

Tanis could see his shadow lengthening, sliding across the trail. Only a few hours of daylight left. They had descended the mountain, moving rapidly on the old dwarven road that led down among the pine trees. A few more miles and they would reach the forest. A bed of pine needles sounded very good after the uncomfortable and cheerless nights on the mountain, with rock for a mattress and a boulder for a pillow.

"I smell smoke," said Flint, coming to a sudden halt.

Tanis sniffed the air. He, too, smelled smoke. He had not noticed it particularly. Back in camp, the smell of smoke from the cook fires had been pervasive. He was tired from walking all day and didn't fully appreciate what this might mean. When he did, he lifted his head and searched the sky.

"There it is," he said, spotting a few tendrils of black drifting up out of the pine trees not far from them. He eyed the smoke. "Maybe it's a forest fire."

Flint shook his head. "It smells like burnt meat."