“I must get some sleep,” Sturm said, and he walked over to wake up the loudly snoring Caramon.
“The Hammer is not in Skullcap,” Raistlin told him. “If it still exists, it is in Thorbardin. If you are seeking the Hammer, you should have gone with Tanis and Flint.”
“You said the key to Thorbardin lies in Skullcap,” said Sturm.
“I did,” Raistlin replied, “but since when does anyone ever listen to me?”
“Tanis listens,” said Sturm, “and that is why he sent me with you and your brother, to make sure that if you do find the key, you deliver it.”
The mage had nothing to say to that, for which Sturm was grateful. Conversations with Raistlin always upset him, left him with feeling that all his sterling notions of the world were in reality blackened and tarnished.
Sturm woke Caramon. The big man, yawning and stretching, took up the watch. Sturm was weary, and he sank almost immediately into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he used the Hammer of Kharas to batter down the bronze door of his family’s vault.
The night passed without event for all those who wandered. Those who kept watch saw nothing and heard nothing. Those who did not keep watch—Tika and Tasslehoff—slept undisturbed. Allseeing eyes kept watch over them. Day dawned slowly and reluctantly. The sun struggled to pierce thick, gray clouds and ended up failing miserably and eventually went, sulking, into hiding. The sky threatened rain or snow, though it did neither.
When a gray and feeble sun lit the tunnel entrance, Sturm, Caramon, and Raistlin resumed their journey. They discussed shutting the entrance behind them, shoving the stone door back in place. Upon examination, none of them, not even Raistlin, could determine how to operate the mechanism and open the door once it was shut. Even if they did finally figure it out, the mechanism had broken down once. It might do so again. Then they would be trapped, and they had no idea what they would find farther on. The tunnel might be blocked, in which case they would have to admit defeat and retrace their steps. They agreed to leave the door open. The three proceeded down the tunnel, the light of the crystal atop Raistlin’s staff illuminating their way. Sturm carried a lantern, for he disliked intensely the idea that Raistlin could suddenly, with a single word, plunge them into darkness.
The tunnel, constructed by dwarven engineers, cut straight through the mountain. The walls were rough hewn, the floor relatively smooth. There were no signs that anyone had ever been inside it.
“If the dwarves had been fleeing their besieged fortress, we’d find discarded armor, broken weapons, bodies,” said Caramon. “This was never used.”
“Which proves the theory that Fistandantilus did not bring down Zhaman deliberately,” Raistlin stated. “The blast was accidental.”
“Then what caused it?” Caramon asked, interested.
“Foul magic,” Sturm stated.
Raistlin shook his head. “I know of no magic, foul or otherwise, that has the power to level such a mighty fortress. According to Flint, the blast laid waste to the land for miles around Zhaman. The wise have long wondered what really happened in that fortress. Perhaps we will be the ones to discover the truth.”
“You will write a treatise on the subject, no doubt,” said Sturm, “and read it aloud at the next Wizard’s Conclave.”
“I might at that,” Raistlin said with a smile.
The three walked on.
Tasslehoff woke Tika by scolding her for having fallen asleep. She had undoubtedly missed any number of ghosts that could have visited them in the night.
Tika scolded herself, flushing to think how Caramon would have berated her for sleeping on watch. Tika told Tas irritably to shut up and get a move on. They picked up the trail of the three ahead of them and set out in dogged pursuit.
She and Tas also got an early start to their day; making up for lost time. Lack of sleep and the knowledge that she was far from home and help put Tika in a bad mood. She was grumpy with Tas and did not want to chat, even about such interesting tidbits of gossip as the fact that Tasslehoff had discovered Hederick the High Seeker had his own secret stash of food hidden away.
Tika stalked along the trail, keeping her gaze on the ground, following the tracks in the snow and fighting the strong urge to turn around and run back to the settlement. If she’d been able to think of a way to sneak back without anyone knowing she’d been gone, she would have. Tika could have come up with a plausible tale, but she knew that Tasslehoff would never be able to keep from blurting out the truth, and she dreaded the idea that people would laugh at her and say she’d gone running after Caramon like some infatuated school girl.
To give her credit, it wasn’t all fear of being ridiculed that kept her going. Tika’s heart was warm, her love for Caramon deep, and her fear for him very real. The idea that she might be able to save Caramon from Raistlin’s machinations kept her slogging along the trail. As for Tas, he was happy to be on the road to adventure once more.
The two reached the edge of the forest about midmorning and saw the trail snake across the barren, snow-covered field.
“Look, Tika!” Tas pointed excitedly, as they drew near the mountain. “There’s a cave. Their trail leads into a cave!”
Tas grabbed Tika’s hand and tugged at her, trying to hurry her along.
“I’m very fond of caves. You never know what you’re going to find inside. Did I ever tell you about the time I went into this cave and there were two ogres and they were playing at mumblety-peg, and at first they were going to tear me limb from limb and eat me, starting with my toes. I didn’t know this, but kender toes are considered a delicacy among ogres. Anyway, I told the ogres I was really good at mumblety-peg, better than either of them, and I wagered them that if I won, they wouldn’t eat me. Of course they had to play, because I had made a wager. The ogres handed me a knife, which I was supposed to throw, but instead I used the knife to stab the ogres in the knees. That way they couldn’t chase after me, and I escaped being eaten. Can you play mumblety-peg, Tika, in case ogres inside the cave want to eat us?”
“No,” said Tika. She did not like caves at all, and her heart was beating fast at the thought of going into one.
Tas was about to launch into more details about the ogres, but Tika ordered him to hush up and when he didn’t, she gave his topknot a yank and threatened to pull it out by the roots if he didn’t for mercy’s sake keep quiet and let her think.
Tas wasn’t sure what it was she had to think about, but he was fond of his topknot, and while he didn’t really believe Tika would pull it out, he didn’t want to take any chances. She’d gone very pale and tight-lipped, and whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, she wiped away a tear. The footprints they were following led straight to the cave, which turned out to be a tunnel. There were muddy boot prints inside, large muddy boot prints. Tika knew Caramon and the others had come this way.
“Light the lantern!” Tas said. “Let’s see what’s down here.”
“I didn’t bring a lantern,” Tika said in dismay.
“Never mind!” cried Tas, rooting around in the darkness. “I found a whole stack of torches.”
“Oh, good,” said Tika. She stared into the darkness that stretched on and on ahead of them, and she felt her knees go weak and her stomach turn to jelly.
Tas had managed to light one of the torches, and he was walking all around the cave, peering into the carts and stopping to scan the walls. “Hey, look, Tika! Come here! Look at this!” Tika didn’t want to look. She wanted to turn and run, run all the way back to camp. Then Tas would tell everyone that Tika had run away like a big scared baby. Gritting her teeth, Tika went to see what he’d found, hoping it wasn’t too horrible.