Dragonlance 03 - Dragons of Spring Dawning (36 page)

Below that staring eye, within the center of the bowl itself, stood a circle of huge, tall, shapeless boulders. It was a perfect circle made up of imperfect rocks. Yet they matched so nearly and stood so close together that when Tanis tried to look between them, he could not make out from where he was standing what the strange stones guarded so solemnly. These boulders were all that was visible in the rock-strewn and silent place.

“It makes me feel so terribly sad,” Tika whispered. “I’m not frightened—it doesn’t seem evil, just so sorrowful! If the gods do come here, it must be to weep over the troubles of the world.”

Fizban turned to regard Tika with a penetrating look and seemed about to speak, but before he could comment, Tasslehoff shouted. “There, Tanis!”

“I see!” The half-elf broke into a run.

On the other side of the bowl, he could see the vague outline of what appeared to be two figures—one short and the other tall—struggling.

“It’s Berem!” screamed Tas. The two were plainly visible to his keen kender eyes. “And he’s doing something to Flint! Hurry, Tanis!”

Bitterly cursing himself for letting this happen, for not keeping a closer watch on Berem, for not forcing the man to reveal those secrets he was so obviously holding back, Tanis ran across the stony ground with a speed born of fear. He could hear the others calling to him, but he paid no attention. His eyes were on the two in front of him and now he could see them clearly. Even as he watched, he saw the dwarf fall to the ground. Berem stood over him.

“Flint!” Tanis screamed.

His heart was pounding so that blood dimmed his vision. His lungs ached, there didn’t seem air enough to breathe. Still he ran faster, and now he could see Berem turn to look at him. He seemed to be trying to say something, Tanis could see the man’s lips moving, but the half-elf couldn’t hear through the surge of blood beating in his ears. At Berem’s feet lay Flint. The dwarf’s eyes were closed, his head lolled over to one side, his face was ashen gray.

“What have you done?” Tanis shrieked at Berem. “You’ve killed him!” Grief, guilt, despair, and rage exploded within Tanis like one of the old mage’s fireballs, flooding his head with unbearable pain. He could not see, a red tide blurred his sight.

His sword was in his hand, he had no idea how. He felt the cold steel of the hilt. Berem’s face swam within a blood-red sea; the man’s eyes filled—not with terror—but with deep sorrow. Then Tanis saw the eyes widen with pain, and it was only then he knew he had plunged the sword into Berem’s unresisting body, plunged it so deeply that he felt it cleave through flesh and bone and scrape the rock upon which the Everman was leaning.

Warm blood washed over Tanis’s hands. A horrible scream burst in his head, then a heavy weight fell on him, nearly knocking him down.

Berem’s body slumped over him, but Tanis didn’t notice. Frantically he struggled to free his weapon and stab again. He felt strong hands grab him. But in his madness, the half-elf fought them off. Finally pulling his sword free, he watched Berem fall to the ground, blood streaming from the horrible wound just below the green gemstone that glittered with an unholy life in the man’s chest.

Behind him, he heard a deep, booming voice and a woman’s sobbing pleas and a shrill wail of grief. Furious,
Tanis spun around to face those who had tried to thwart him. He saw a big man with a grief-stricken face, a red-haired girl with tears streaming down her cheeks. He recognized neither of them. And then there appeared before him an old, old man. His face was calm, his ageless eyes filled with sorrow. The old man smiled gently at Tanis and, reaching out, laid his hand on the half-elf’s shoulder.

His touch was like cool water to a fevered man. Tanis felt reason return. The bloody haze cleared from his vision. He dropped the blood-stained sword from his red hands and collapsed, sobbing, at Fizban’s feet. The old man leaned down and gently patted him.

“Be strong, Tanis,” he said softly, “for you must say goodbye to one who has a long journey before him.

Tanis remembered. “Flint!” he gasped.

Fizban nodded sadly, glancing at Berem’s body. “Come along. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

Swallowing his tears, Tanis staggered to his feet. Shoving aside the mage, he stumbled over to where Flint lay on the rocky ground, his head resting on Tasslehoff’s lap.

The dwarf smiled as he saw the half-elf approach. Tanis dropped down on his knees beside his oldest friend. Taking Flint’s gnarled hand in his, the half-elf held it fast.

“I almost lost him, Tanis,” Flint said. With his other hand he tapped his chest. “Berem was just about to slip out through that other hole in the rocks over there when this old heart of mine finally burst. He—he heard me cry out, I guess, because the next thing I knew he had me in his arms and was laying me down on the rocks.”

“Then he didn’t—he didn’t—harm you …” Tanis could barely speak.

Flint managed a snort. “Harm me! He couldn’t harm a mouse, Tanis. He’s as gentle as Tika.” The dwarf smiled up at the girl, who also knelt beside him. “You take care of that big oaf, Caramon, you hear?” he said to her. “See he comes in out of the rain.”

“I will, Flint.” Tika wept.

“At least you won’t be trying to drown me anymore,” the dwarf grumbled, his eyes resting fondly on Caramon. “And if you see that brother of yours, give him a kick in the robes for me.”

Caramon could not speak. He only shook his head. “I—I’ll go look after Berem,” the big man mumbled. Taking hold of Tika, he gently helped her stand and led her away.

“No, Flint! You can’t go off adventuring without me!” Tas wailed. “You’ll get into no end of trouble, you know you will!”

“It’ll be the first moment of peace I’ve had since we met,” the dwarf said gruffly. “I want you to have my helm, the one with the
griffon’s
mane.” He glared at Tanis sternly, then turned his gaze back to the sobbing kender. Sighing, he patted Tas’s hand. “There, there, lad, don’t take on so. I’ve had a happy life, blessed with faithful friends. I’ve seen evil things, but I’ve seen a lot of good things, too. And now hope has come into the world. I hate to leave you”—his rapidly dimming vision focused on Tanis—“just when you need me. But I’ve taught you all I know, lad. Everything will be fine. I know … fine …”

His voice sank, he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Tanis held tightly to his hand. Tasslehoff buried his face in Flint’s shoulder. Then Fizban appeared, standing at Flint’s feet.

The dwarf opened his eyes. “I know you, now,” he said softly, his eyes bright as he looked at Fizban. “You’ll come with me, won’t you? At least at the beginning of the journey … so I won’t be alone? I’ve walked with friends so long, I feel … kind of funny … going off like this … by myself.”

“I’ll come with you,” Fizban promised gently. “Close your eyes and rest now, Flint. The troubles of this world are yours no longer. You have earned the right to sleep.”

“Sleep,” the dwarf said, smiling. “Yes, that’s what I need. Wake me when you’re ready … wake me when it’s time to leave …” Flint’s eyes closed. He drew in a smooth easy breath, then let it out.…

Tanis pressed the dwarf’s hand to his lips. “Farewell, old friend,” the half-elf whispered, and he placed the hand on the dwarf’s still chest.

“No! Flint! No!” Screaming wildly, Tasslehoff flung himself across the dwarf’s body. Gently Tanis lifted the sobbing kender in his arms. Tas kicked and fought, but Tanis held him firmly, like a child, and finally Tas subsided—exhausted. Clinging to Tanis, he wept bitterly.

Tanis stroked the kender’s topknot, then—glancing up—stopped.

“Wait! What are you doing, old man?” he cried.

Setting Tas back down on the ground, Tanis rose quickly to his feet. The frail old mage had lifted Flint’s body in his arms and, as Tanis watched in shock, began walking toward the strange circle of stones.

“Stop!” Tanis ordered. “We must give him a proper ceremony, build a cairn.”

Fizban turned to face Tanis. The old man’s face was stern. He held the heavy dwarf gently and with ease.

“I promised him he would not travel alone,” Fizban said simply.

Then, turning, he continued to walk toward the stones. Tanis, after a moment’s hesitation, ran after him. The rest stood as if transfixed, staring at Fizban’s retreating figure.

It had seemed an easy thing to Tanis to catch up with an old man bearing such a burden. But Fizban moved incredibly fast, almost as if he and the dwarf were as light as the air. Suddenly aware of the weight of his own body, Tanis felt as if he were trying to catch a wisp of smoke soaring heavenward. Still he stumbled after them, reaching them just as the old mage entered the ring of boulders, carrying the dwarf’s body in his arms.

Tanis squeezed through the circle of rocks without thinking, knowing only that he must stop this crazed old mage and recover his friend’s body.

Then he stopped within the circle. Before him spread what he first took to be a pool of water, so still that nothing marred its smooth surface. Then he saw that it wasn’t water, it was a pool of glassy black rock! The deep black surface was polished to a gleaming brilliance. It stretched before Tanis with the darkness of night and, indeed, looking down into its black depths, Tanis was startled to see stars! So clear were they that he looked up, half-expecting to see night had fallen, though he knew it was only mid-afternoon. The sky above him was azure, cold and clear, no stars, no sun. Shaken and weak, Tanis dropped to his knees beside the pool and stared once more into its polished surface. He saw the stars, he saw the moons, he saw three moons, and his soul trembled, for the black moon visible only to those powerful mages of the Black Robes was now visible to him, like a dark circle cut out of blackness. He could even see the gaping holes where the constellations
of the Queen of Darkness and the Valiant Warrior had once wheeled in the sky.

Tanis recalled Raistlin’s words, “Both gone. She has come to Krynn, Tanis, and he has come to fight her.…”

Looking up, Tanis saw Fizban step onto the black rock pool, Flint’s body in his arms.

The half-elf tried desperately to follow, but he could no more force himself to crawl out upon that cold rock surface than he could have made himself leap into the Abyss. He could only watch as the old mage, walking softly as if unwilling to waken a sleeping child in his arms, moved out into the center of glistening black surface.

“Fizban!” Tanis called.

The old man did not stop or turn but walked on among the glittering stars. Tanis felt Tasslehoff creep up next to him. Reaching out, Tanis took his hand and held it fast, as he had held Flint’s.

The old mage reached the center of the rock pool … and then disappeared.

Tanis gasped. Tasslehoff leaped past him, starting to run out onto the mirrorlike surface. But Tanis caught him.

“No, Tas,” the half-elf said gently. “You can’t go on this adventure with him. Not yet. You must stay with me awhile.
I
need you now.”

Tasslehoff fell back, unusually obedient, and as he did so, he pointed.

“Look, Tanis!” he whispered, his voice quivering. “The constellation! It’s come back!”

As Tanis stared into the surface of the black pool, he saw the stars of the constellation of the Valiant Warrior return. They flickered, then burst into light, filling the dark pool with their blue-white radiance. Swiftly Tanis looked upward—but the sky above was dark and still and empty.

T
anis!” called Caramon’s voice.

“Berem!” Suddenly remembering what he had done, Tanis turned and stumbled over the rock-strewn ground toward Caramon and Tika, who were staring in horror at the blood-smeared rock where Berem’s body lay. As they watched, Berem began to stir, groaning—not in pain, but as if with remembered pain. His shaking hand clutching his chest, Berem rose slowly to his feet. The only sign of his hideous injury was traces of blood upon his skin, and these vanished as Tanis watched.

“He is called the Everman, remember?” Tanis said to the ashen-faced Caramon. “Sturm and I saw him die in Pax Tharkas, buried under a ton of rock. He’s died countless deaths, only to rise again. And he claims he doesn’t know why.” Tanis came forward to stand very close to Berem,
staring at the man, who watched him approach with sullen, wary eyes.

“But you do know, don’t you, Berem?” Tanis said. The half-elf’s voice was soft, his manner calm. “You know,” he repeated, “and you’re going to tell us. The lives of more may hang in balance.”

Berem’s gaze lowered. “I’m sorry … about your friend,” he mumbled. “I—I tried to help, but there was nothing—”

“I know.” Tanis swallowed. “I’m sorry … about what I did, too. I—I couldn’t see … I didn’t understand—”

But as he said the words, Tanis realized he was lying. He had seen, but he had seen only what he wanted to see. How much of what happened in his life was like that? How much of what he saw was distorted by his own mind? He hadn’t understood Berem because he didn’t
want
to understand Berem! Berem had come to represent for Tanis those dark and secret things within himself he hated. He had killed Berem, the half-elf knew; but in reality, he had driven that sword through himself.