Part 19 (1/2)

”Fifteen or fifteen hundred, it makes little difference,” Raistlin said. ”We still have to get past them.”

”Unless there's another way out.” Caramon looked at Sturm, who shook his helmed head.

”Thorbardin lies that way.” He pointed to the south. ”Across the Plains of Dergoth.”

”Yeah, I know,” Caramon said. ”You've told us that three times in the last five minutes. Is there another way out of this fortress? A secret way?”

”Our army stormed the gates of the fortress. We came in through the front and swept aside the defenders.”

”This is the only way,” said Raistlin.

”You can't know for sure. We could do some exploring.”

”Trust me,” Raistlin said flatly. ”I know.”

Caramon shook his head, but he did not continue to argue.

”We will simply wait for the draconians to leave,” Raistlin decided. ”They will not hang about all day. They will likely return to the fortress to continue searching for loot. Once they have gone inside, we can depart.”

”We should just kill them now,” Sturm said. ”They are merely goblins. Four of us can handle such vermin with ease.”

Caramon looked at Sturm in astonishment. ”Goblins? Those aren't goblins.” Puzzled, he looked at Raistlin. ”Why does he think they're goblins?”

”Remarkable,” said Raistlin, intrigued. ”I can only speculate, but since draconians did not exist during the time in which the prince lived, the helm does not know what to make of the monsters. Thus the prince sees what he expects to see-goblins.”

”Great,” Caramon muttered. ”Just b.l.o.o.d.y great.”

He peered over the edge down a sheer wall, black and smooth, that extended for about thirty feet, ending in a ma.s.sive pile of rubble- chunks of the fortress, boulders, and rocks all jumbled together. At the foot of the rubble heap was the large patch of dry ground on which the draconians were camped and beyond that the mists and miasma of a swamp.

”I suppose we could climb down the wall,” said Caramon dubiously. ”Looks kind of slick though.”

Caramon waited until he saw the draconian's head slump, then he pulled himself out over the ledge for a better look. The moment his hand touched the smooth, black rock, he gave a curse and s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand back.

”d.a.m.n!” he said, rubbing his palm that was bright red. ”That blasted rock is cold as ice! Like sticking your hand in a frozen lake!” He sucked on his fingers.

”Let me feel!” said Tas eagerly.

The guard's head jerked up. He yawned and looked about. Caramon grabbed the kender and dragged him back.

”At least you you can use your magic to float down,” Caramon grumbled to his brother. ”The rest of us will have to use the ropes to push ourselves off the rock. It will be slow going, and we'll be sitting ducks on the way down.” can use your magic to float down,” Caramon grumbled to his brother. ”The rest of us will have to use the ropes to push ourselves off the rock. It will be slow going, and we'll be sitting ducks on the way down.”

Raistlin glanced sidelong at his twin. ”You are in a very bad mood this morning, my brother.”

”Yeah, well...” Caramon rubbed his stubbled jaw. He had not shaved in a couple of days, and his beard was starting to itch. ”I'm worried about Tika, that's all.”

”You blame me for the fact that the girl ran off by herself.”

”No, Raist, I don't blame you,” Caramon said with a sigh. ”If you must know, I blame myself.”

”You can blame me, too,” Tas offered remorsefully. ”I should have gone with her.”

The kender took hold of his topknot and gave it a painful tug as punishment.

”If anyone is to blame, it is Tika herself. Her foolishness prompted her to leave,” said Raistlin. ”Suffice it to say, she's in far less danger returning to camp than she would be now if she were here with us.”

Caramon stirred and seemed about to say something, but Raistlin cut him off.

”We had best prepare for our departure. Caramon, you and Tas go back and bring up the extra rope and anything else you can find that you think we might be able to use. I will remain here with His Highness.”

The moment Caramon and Ta.s.slehoff were on their feet, Sturm thought they were leaving, and only Raistlin's most persuasive arguments could prevent the knight from rus.h.i.+ng off.

”I hope those draconians go inside soon,” said Caramon. ”We're not going to be able to keep Sturm here much longer.”

Caramon and Ta.s.slehoff returned with the rope and started to secure it for the trip down the mountainside. Once Sturm was aware of what they were doing, he offered his a.s.sistance. Sturm knew nothing about mountain climbing, but Prince Grallen, having lived all his life beneath the mountain in the subterranean halls of the dwarves, was skilled in the subject. His advice proved invaluable. He showed Caramon how to tie strong knots and how to best anchor the ropes.

As they were working, the draconian camp below woke up. Raistlin, keeping watch, noted the bozak draconian as being the one in charge. Larger and presumably smarter than the baaz, the bronze-scaled bozak was not so much commander as he was bully and slave driver.

Once he woke up, he went about kicking and hitting the baaz until, grumping and grousing, they stumbled to their feet. The bozak doled out hunks of maggot-ridden meat to the baaz, keeping the largest share for himself and five baaz, who were apparently his bodyguards.

From what Raistlin could gather from listening to the mixture of Common, military argot, and draconian, the bozak was ordering his men back inside the fortress to continue searching for anything valuable. He reminded them that he would be taking his cut, and n.o.body had better try to keep anything from him, or he'd slice off their wings.

Led by the bozak, the draconians trooped inside the fortress, and soon Raistlin could hear the bozak's guttural shouts echoing along the corridors far below the airshaft.

Caramon waited tensely, rope in hand, until the draconian voices and the sounds of tromping feet faded away. Then he looked at his brother and nodded.

”We're ready.”

Raistlin climbed up onto the lip of the hole. Gripping the Staff of Magius, he positioned himself, looked down at the ground some eighty feet beneath him, and raised his arms.

”Don't, Raist!” said Caramon suddenly. ”I can carry you down on my back.”

Raistlin glanced around. ”You've seen me do this countless times, my brother.”

”Yeah, I know,” Caramon returned. ”It's just... your magic doesn't work all all the time.” the time.”

”My magic does not work all the time because I am human and fallible,” Raistlin said irritably, for he never liked to be reminded of that fact. ”The magic of the staff, however, can never fail.”

Despite his confident words, Raistlin felt the same flutter of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach he always felt whenever he gave himself completely into the hands of the magic. He told himself, as he always did, that he was being foolish. Spreading his arms, he spoke the word of command and leaped into the air.

The Staff of Magius did not fail him. The staff's magic enveloped him, carried him downward, and set him drifting gently upon the currents of magic as though he were light as thistledown.

”I wish I could do that,” said Ta.s.slehoff wistfully, peering over the edge. ”Do you think I could try, Caramon? Maybe there's a little magic left over...”

”And miss the fun of scaling this sheer rock wall that's so cold it'll burn off your skin if you touch it?” Caramon grunted. ”Why would you want to do that?”

He looked down. Raistlin waved up at him to let him know he was safe, then hurried over to the fortress entrance. Raistlin stayed there, looking and listening for a long while, then he waved his arm again to indicate that all was safe. Caramon lowered down their packs, including the kender's hoopak and Sturm's armor, which Raistlin wanted to leave behind, but Caramon insisted that they bring with them.

Raistlin untied the packs, set them to one side, then took up a position near the entrance, hiding himself behind a boulder so that if the draconians came out, he could take them by surprise. Caramon, Tas and Sturm began their descent.