Dragonlance 02 - Dragons of Winter Night (13 page)

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 hand 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 rock 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 may be 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, clear, 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 of 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.

D
ragons flew on their leathery wings above the gutted city of Tarsis as the draconian armies swarmed in to take possession. The task of the dragons was completed. Soon the Dragon Highlord would call them back, holding them in readiness for the next strike. But for now they could relax, drifting on the super-heated air currents rising from the burning town, picking off the occasional human foolish enough to come out of hiding. The red dragons floated in the sky, keeping in their well-organized flights, gliding and dipping in a wheeling dance of death.

No power on Krynn existed now that could stop them. They knew this and exulted in their victory. But occasionally something would occur to interrupt their dance. One flight leader, for example, received a report of fighting near the wreckage of an inn. A young male red dragon, he led his flight
to the site, muttering to himself about the inefficiency of the troop commanders. What could you expect, though, when the Dragon Highlord was a bloated hobgoblin who hadn’t even courage enough to watch the takeover of a soft town like Tarsis?

The male red sighed, recalling the days of glory when Verminaard had led them personally, sitting astride the back of Pyros. He had been a Dragon Highlord! The red shook his head disconsolately. Ah, there was the battle. He could see it clearly now. Ordering his flight to stay airborne, he swooped in low for a better look.

“I command you! Stop!”

The red halted in his flight, staring upward in astonishment. The voice was strong and clear, and it came from the figure of a Dragon Highlord. But the Dragon Highlord was certainly not Toede! This Dragon Highlord, although heavily cloaked and dressed in the shining mask and dragon-scale armor of the Highlords, was human, to judge by the voice, not hobgoblin. But where had this Highlord come from? And why? For, to the red dragon’s amazement, he saw that the Highlord rode upon a huge blue dragon and was attended by several flights of blues.

“What is your bidding, Highlord?” the red asked sternly. “And by what right do you stop us, you who have no business in this part of Krynn?”

“The fate of mankind is my business, whether it be in this part of Krynn or another,” the Dragon Highlord returned. “And the might of my sword-arm gives me all the right I need to command you, gallant red. As for my bidding, I ask that you capture these pitiful humans, do not kill them. They are wanted for questioning. Bring them to me. You will be well rewarded.”

“Look!” called a young female red. “Griffons!”

The Dragon Highlord gave an exclamation of astonishment and displeasure. The dragons looked down to see three griffons sweeping up out of the smoke. Not quite half the size of a red dragon, griffons were noted for their ferocity. Draconian troops scattered like ashes in the wind before the creatures, whose sharp talons and ripping beaks were tearing the heads from those reptile-men unlucky enough to have been caught in their path.

The red snarled in hatred and prepared to dive, his flight with him, but the Dragon Highlord swooped down in front of him, causing him to pull up.

“I tell you, they must not be killed!” the Dragon Highlord said sternly.

“But they’re escaping!” the red hissed furiously.

“Let them,” the Highlord said coldly. “They will not go far. I relieve you of your duty in this. Return to the main body. And if that idiot Toede mentions this, tell him that the secret of how he lost the blue crystal staff did not die with Lord Verminaard. The memory of Fewmaster Toede lives on—in
my
mind—and will become known to others if he dares to challenge me!”

The Dragon Highlord saluted, then wheeled the large blue dragon in the air to fly swiftly after the griffons, whose tremendous speed had allowed them to escape with their riders well past the city gates. The red watched the blues disappear through the night skies in pursuit.

“Shouldn’t we give chase as well?” asked the female red.