"Don't take too long," Sturm warned. "Listen."
"I can hear," Tanis said grimly. "Go on."
"What are those sounds?" Goldmoon asked the knight as he came up to her.
"Goblin search parties," Sturm answered. "Those whistles keep them in contact when they're separated. They're moving into the woods now."
Goldmoon nodded in understanding. She spoke a few words to Riverwind in their own language, apparently continuing a conversation Sturm had interrupted. The big Plainsman frowned and gestured back toward the forest with his hand.
He's trying to convince her to split with us, Sturm realized. Maybe he's got enough woodslore to hide from goblin search parties for days, but I doubt it.
"Riverwind, gue-lando" Goldmoon said sharply. Sturm saw Riverwind scowl in anger. Without a word, he turned and stalked toward the boat. Goldmoon sighed and looked after him, deep sorrow in her face.
"Can I do anything to help, lady?" Sturm asked gently.
"No," she replied. Then she said sadly, as if to herself, "He rules my heart, but I am his ruler. Once, when we were young, we thought we could forget that. But I have been 'Chieftains Daughter' too long."
"Why doesn't he trust us?" Sturm asked.
"He has all the prejudices of our people," Goldmoon replied.
"The Plainsmen do not trust those who are not human." She glanced back. "Tanis cannot hide his elven blood beneath a beard. Then there are the dwarf, the kender."
"And what of you, lady?" Sturm asked. "Why do you trust us? Don't you have these same prejudices?"
Goldmoon turned to face him. He could see her eyes, dark and shimmering as the lake behind her. "When I was a girl," she said in her deep, low voice, "I was a princess of my people. I was a priestess. They worshipped me as a goddess. I believed in it. I adored it. Then something happened… " She fell silent, her eyes filled with memories.
"What was that?" Sturm prompted softly.
"I fell in love with a shepherd," Goldmoon answered, looking at Riverwind. She sighed and walked toward the boat.
Sturm watched Riverwind wade into the water to drag the boat closer to shore as Raistlin and Caramon reached the water's edge. Raistlin clutched his robes around him, shivering.
"I can't get my feet wet," he whispered hoarsely. Caramon did not reply. He simply put his huge arms around his brother, lifted him as easily as he would have lifted a child, and set Raistlin in the boat. The mage huddled in the aft part of the boat, not saying a word of thanks.
"I'll hold her steady," Caramon told Riverwind. "You get in." Riverwind hesitated a moment, then climbed quickly over the side. Caramon helped Goldmoon into the boat. Riverwind caught hold of her and steadied her as the boat rocked gently. The Plainsmen moved to sit in the stern, behind Tasslehoff.
Caramon turned to Sturm as the knight drew near. "What's happening back there?"
"Flint says he'll burn before he'll get in a boat-at least then he'll die warm instead of wet and cold."
"I'll go up and haul him down here," Caramon said.
"You'd only make things worse. You were the one that nearly drowned him, remember? Let Tanis handle it-he's the diplomat."
Caramon nodded. Both men stood, waiting in silence. Sturm saw Goldmoon look at Riverwind in mute appeal, but the Plainsman did not heed her glance. Tasslehoff, fidgeting on his seat, started to call out a shrill question, but a stern look from the knight silenced him. Raistlin huddled in his robes, trying to suppress an uncontrollable cough.
"I'm going up there," Sturm said finally. "Those whistles are getting closer. We don't dare take any more time." But at that moment, he saw Tanis shake hands with the dwarf, and begin to run toward the boat alone. Flint stayed where he was, near the edge of the woods. Sturm shook his head. "I told Tanis the dwarf wouldn't come."
"Stubborn as a dwarf, so the old saying goes," Caramon grunted. "And that one's had one hundred and forty-eight years to grow stubborner." The big man shook his head sadly.
"Well, we'll miss him, that's for certain. He's saved my life more than once. Let me go get him. One punch on the jaw and he won't know whether he's in a boat or his own bed."
Tanis ran up, panting, and heard the last comment. "No, Caramon," he said. "Flint would never forgive us. Don't worry about him. He's going back to the hills. Get in the boat. There are more lights coming this way. We left a trail through the forest a blind gully dwarf could follow."
"No sense all of us getting wet," Caramon said, holding the side of the boat. "You and Sturm get in. I'll shove off."
Sturm was already over the side. Tanis patted Caramon on the back, then climbed in. The warrior pushed the boat out into the lake. He was up to his knees in water when they heard a call from the shore.
"Hold it!" It was Flint, running down from the trees, a vague moving shape of blackness against the moonlit shoreline. "Hang on! I'm coming!"
"Stop!" Tanis cried. "Caramon! Wait for Flint!"
"Look!" Sturm half-rose, pointing. Lights had appeared in the trees, smoking torches held by goblin guards.
"Goblins, Flint!" Tanis yelled. "Behind you! Run!" The dwarf, never questioning, put his head down and pumped for the shore, one hand on his helm to keep it from flying off.
"I'll cover him," Tanis said, unslinging his bow. With his elvensight, he was the only one who could see the goblins behind the torches. Fitting an arrow to his bow, Tanis stood as Caramon held the big boat steady. Tanis fired at the outline of the lead goblin. The arrow struck it in the chest and it pitched forward on its face. The other goblins slowed slightly, reaching for their own bows. Tanis fitted another arrow to his bow as Flint reached the shoreline.
"Wait! I'm coming!" the dwarf gasped and he plunged into the water and sank like a rock.
"Grab him!" Sturm yelled. "Tas, row back. There he is! See? The bubbles-" Caramon was splashing frantically in the water, hunting for the dwarf. Tas tried to row back, but the weight in the boat was too much for the kender. Tanis fired again, missed his mark, and swore beneath his breath. He reached for another arrow. The goblins were swarming down the hillside.
"I've got him!" Caramon shouted, pulling the dripping, spluttering dwarf out by the collar of his leather tunic. "Quit struggling," he told Flint, whose arms were flailing out in all directions. But the dwarf was in a complete state of panic. A goblin arrow thunked into Caramon's chain mail and stuck there like a scrawny feather.
"That does it!" The warrior grunted in exasperation and, with a great heave of his muscular arms, he pitched the dwarf into the boat as it moved out away from him. Flint caught hold of a seat and held on, his lower half sticking out over the edge. Sturm grabbed him by the belt and dragged him aboard as the boat rocked alarmingly. Tanis nearly lost his balance and was forced to drop his bow and catch hold of the side to keep from being thrown into the water. A goblin arrow stuck into the gunwale, just barely missing Tanis's hand.
"Row back to Caramon, Tas!" Tanis yelled.
"I can't!" shouted the struggling kender. One swipe of an out-of-control oar nearly knocked Sturm overboard.
The knight yanked the kender from his seat. He grabbed the oars and smoothly brought the boat around to where Caramon could get hold of the side.
Tanis helped the warrior climb in, then yelled to Sturm, "Pull!" The knight pulled on the oars with all his strength, leaning over backward as he thrust the oars deep into the water. The boat shot away from shore, accompanied by the howls of angry goblins. More arrows whizzed around the boat as Caramon, dripping wet, plopped down next to Tanis.
"Goblin target practice tonight," Caramon muttered, pulling the arrow from his mail shirt. "We show up beautifully against the water."
Tanis was fumbling for his dropped bow when he noticed Raistlin sitting up. "Take cover!" Tanis warned, and Caramon started to reach for his brother, but the mage, scowling at both of them, slipped his hand into a pouch on his belt. His delicate fingers drew out a handful of something as an arrow struck the seat next to him. Raistlin did not react. Tanis started to pull the mage down, then realized he was lost in the concentration necessary to a magic-user casting a spell. Disturbing him now might have drastic consequences, causing the mage to forget the spell or worse-to miscast the spell.