"Poor thing," Maritta had said when discussing the plan with Tanis. "She is as much a prisoner as we are. The Dragon Highlord never allows her out. I think they're afraid she'll wander off. They've even built a tunnel through the storeroom, too small for her to fit through. Not that she wants to get out, but I think she might like to watch the children play."
Tanis regarded Maritta dubiously, wondering if they might encounter a dragon very different from the mad, feeble creature she described.
Beyond the dragon's lair was the room where the children slept. This was the room they would have to enter, to wake the children and lead them outdoors. The playroom connected directly with the courtyard through a huge door locked with a great oaken beam.
"More to keep the dragon in than us," Maritta stated.
It must be just about dawning, Tanis thought, as they emerged from the stairwell and turned toward the playroom. The torchlight cast their shadows ahead of them. Pax Tharkas was quiet, deathly quiet. Too quiet-for a fortress preparing for war. Four draconian guards stood huddled together talking at the doorway to the playroom. Their conversation broke off as they saw the women approach.
Goldmoon and Maritta walked in front, Goldmoon's hoodwas drawn back, her hair glimmering in the torchlight. Directly behind Goldmoon came Riverwind. Bent over a staff, the Plainsman was practically walking on his knees. Caramon and Raistlin followed, the mage staying close to his brother, then Eben and Gilthanas. All the traitors together, as Raistlin had sarcastically observed. Flint brought up the rear, turning occasionally to glower at the panic-stricken gully dwarves.
"You're early this morning," a draconian growled.
The women clustered like chickens in a half-circle around the guards and stood, waiting patiently to be allowed inside.
"It smells of thunder," Maritta said sharply. "I want the children to have their exercise before the storm hits. And what are you doing here? This door is never guarded. You'll frighten the children."
One of the draconians made some comment in their harsh language and two of the others grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. The spokesman only snarled.
"Lord Verminaard's command. He and Ember are gone this morning to finish the elves. We're ordered to search you before you enter." The draconian's eyes fastened onto Goldmoon hungrily. "That's going to be a pleasure, I'd say."
"For you maybe," muttered another guard, staring at Sturm in disgust. "I've never seen an uglier female in my life than ugh-" The creature slumped over, a dagger thrust deep into its ribs. The other three draconians died within seconds. Caramon wrapped his hands around the neck of one. Eben hit his in the stomach and Flint lobbed off its head with an axe as it fell. Tanis stabbed the leader through the heart with his sword. He started to let go of the weapon, expecting it to remain stuck in the creature's stony corpse. To his amazement, his new sword slid out of the stone carcass as easily as if it had been nothing more than goblin flesh.
He had no time to ponder this strange occurrence. The gully dwarves, catching sight of the flash of steel, dropped their pots and ran wildly down the corridor.
"Never mind them!" Tanis snapped at Flint. "Into the playroom. Hurry!" Stepping over the bodies, he flung the door open.
"If anyone finds these bodies, it'll be all over," Caramon said.
"It was over before we began!" Sturm muttered angrily. "We've been betrayed, so it's just a matter of time."
"Keep moving!" Tanis said sharply, shutting the door behind them.
"Be very quiet," Maritta whispered. "Flamestrike generally sleeps soundly. If she does waken, act like women. She'll never recognize you. She's blind in one eye."
The chill dawn light filtered in through tiny windows high above the floor, shining on a grim, cheerless playroom. A few well-used toys lay scattered about. There was no furniture. Caramon walked over to inspect the huge wooden beam barring the double doors that led to the courtyard outside.
"I can manage," he said. The big man appeared to lift the beam effortlessly, then set it against the wall and shoved on the door. "Not locked from the outside," he reported. "I guess they didn't expect us to get this far."
Or perhaps Lord Verminaard wants us out there, Tanis thought. He wondered if what the draconian said was true. Had the Dragon Highlord and the dragon really gone? Or were they-angrily he wrenched his mind back. It doesn't matter, he told himself. We have no choice. We must go on.
"Flint, stay here," he said. "If anyone comes, warn us first, then fight."
Flint nodded and took a position just inside the door leading to the corridor, first opening it a crack to see. The draconian bodies had turned to dust on the floor.
Maritta took a torch from the wall. Lighting it, she led the companions through a dark archway into the tunnel leading to the dragon's lair.
"Fizban! Your hat!" Tas risked whispering.
Too late. The old magician made a grab for it but missed.
"Spies!" yelled Verminaard in a rage, pointing up to the balcony. "Capture them. Ember! I want them alive!"
Alive? the dragon repeated to himself. No, that could not be! Pyros recalled the strange sound he had heard last night and he knew without a doubt that these spies had overheard him talking about the Green Gemstone Man! Only a privileged few knew that dread secret, the great secret, the secret that would conquer the world for the Queen of Darkness. These spies must die, and the secret die with them.
Pyros spread his wings and launched himself into the air, using his powerful back legs to propel himself from the floor with tremendous speed.
This is it! thought Tasslehoff. Now we've done it. There's no escape this time.
Just as he resigned himself to being cooked by a dragon, he heard the magician shout a single word of command and a thick, unnatural darkness almost knocked the kender over.
"Run!" panted Fizban, grabbing the kenders hand and dragging Tas to his feet.
"Sestun-"
"I've got him! Run!"
Tasslehoff ran. They flew out the door and into the gallery, then he had no idea where he was going. He just kept hold of the old man and ran. Behind him he could hear the sound of the dragon whooshing up out of his lair and he heard the dragon's voice.
"So you are a magic-user, are you, spy?" Pyros shouted. "We can't have you running around in the dark. You might get lost. Let me light your way!"
Tasslehoff heard a great intake of breath into a giant body, then flames crackled and burned around him. The darkness vanished, driven away by the fire's flaring light, but, to his amazement, Tas wasn't touched by the flame. He looked at Fizban- hatless- running next to him. They were in the gallery still, heading for the double doors.
The kender twisted his head. Behind him loomed the dragon, more horrible than anything he had imagined, more terrifying than the black dragon in Xak Tsaroth, The dragon breathed on them again and once more Tas was enveloped by flame. The paintings on the walls blazed, furniture burned, curtains flared like torches, smoke filled the room. But none of it touched him and Sestun and Fizban. Tasslehoff looked at the mage in admiration, truly impressed.
"How long can you keep this up?" he shouted to Fizban as they wheeled around a corner, the double bronze doors in sight.
The old man's eyes were wide and staring. "I have no idea!" he gasped. "I didn't know I could do it at all!"
Another blast of flame exploded around them. This time, Tasslehoff felt the heat and glanced at Fizban in alarm. The mage nodded. "I'm losing it!" he cried.
"Hang on," Tasslehoff panted. "We're almost to the door! He can't get through it."
The three pushed through the bronze double doors that led from the gallery back into the hallway just as Fizban's magic spell wore off. Before them was the secret door, still open, that led to the Mechanism Room. Tasslehoff flung the bronze doors shut and stopped a moment to. catch his breath.