“If there were soldiers guarding this area, they have probably run off to join the battle,” said Derek. “Aran, you and Brightblade remain here, keep watch. Brian, you will come with me—”
“It’s a trap, my lord,” said Sturm, speaking with such calm and conviction that the knights were shocked into silence.
Derek quickly recovered. “Nonsense,” he said testily. “I think he may be right, Derek,” said Aran. “I’ve had the feeling all along that someone was following us.”
Gilthanas sidled farther down the tunnel and pulled Laurana with him.
“That explains why Feal-Thas sent away all those guarding the orb, including the dragon,” Brian added tensely. “He wanted to lure us into doing exactly what we are doing—walking into a trap.”
As if someone was listening, an eerie howl wailed in the darkness, bestial, mocking laughter that throbbed with enmity and a terrible threat of blood and pain and dying. The single voice was joined by countless more voices, their howls and cries reverberating through the tunnels.
Laurana clutched at her brother, who grabbed hold of her. Flint whipped out his axe, looking about wildly.
“What was that?” Laurana gasped. Her lips were numb with cold and fear. “What is that dreadful sound?”
“Wolves!” Gilthanas breathed, not daring to speak aloud. “The wolf packs of Feal-Thas!”
At a sharp command from Derek, the knights took up positions back to back, facing outward, their swords drawn. Steel glinted in the magical light.
The wolves surrounded the knights. White fur against white snow, red eyes glowing, the wolves circled the knights, padding quietly, closing in on them. Now the wolves had gone silent, intent on the kill, on avoiding the sharp steel, on leaping and dragging down and tearing apart, on gulping the hot blood.
One wolf, larger than the rest, held apart from the others, remaining outside the circle. This wolf did not join in the attack. He was watching, a spectator. It seemed to Laurana the wolf had a cruel smile in his dark eyes.
Elves have long studied the habits and nature of the animals who share their forest homes. They do not kill their animal neighbors, not even the predatory beasts, unless forced to do so.
Laurana knew the ways and habits of wolves, and no wolf would behave like this—sitting on his haunches, watching his fellows.
“Something’s not right. Wait, Flint!” she cried desperately, as the dwarf would have dashed off to join the battle. “Tas! Do you have those magical glasses of yours? The ones that see things for what they are!”
“I might,” said Tas. “I’m never sure what I have, you know, but I try to keep those with me.”
Laurana watched in agony as the kender, hampered by his fur gloves, began peering into and rummaging through his numerous pouches. From their hiding place in the tunnel, Laurana could see, out of the corner of her eye, the wolves closing the circle. There must be fifty of them or more. And still the one wolf watched the doomed knights and waited.
Tasslehoff continued rummaging. Frantic, Laurana grabbed one of the pouches, upended it, dumping stuff on the ground. She was about to do the same with the others, when Gilthanas pointed. The glasses sparkled and glittered in the magical light. The elf made a grab for them, but Tasslehoff was quicker. He snatched them up and, giving Gilthanas a reproachful glance, settled them on his nose.
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“That big wolf.” Laurana knelt beside the kender, bringing herself to his eye level, and pointed. “The one there, standing apart from the others.”
“It’s not a wolf. It’s an elf,” said Tasslehoff, then he added excitedly, “No wait! It’s an elf and a wolf…”
“Feal-Thas…” Laurana whispered. “You know something of this wizard, Gil. How do we stop him?”
“An archmage!” Gilthanas gave a bitter laugh. “One of the most powerful wizards on Krynn—”
He halted. His expression grew thoughtful. “There might be a way, but you would have to do it, Laurana.”
“Me!” She gasped, appalled.
“You’re the only one who has a chance.” Gilthanas pointed. “You have the frostreaver.”
She had thrown the weapon to the ground to help Tasslehoff search through the pouches. It lay, gleaming crystalline clear, at her feet. She made no move to pick it up.
Gilthanas gripped her arm, speaking very fast. “Your weapon is magical. The wizard is a winternorn and the weapon is made of the same elements that fuel his magic. It is the one weapon that might kill him.”
“But… he’s a wizard.” Laurana quailed.
“He is not! Not now. Now he’s a wolf. He’s trapped in the wolf’s body, and he’ll be hampered in his spell casting! He won’t be able to speak the words of magic or make the gestures or use his spell components. You must attack now, before he shifts back!”
Laurana stood shivering, staring at the enormous white wolf. The other wolves continued to circle the knights, wary of the sharp steel, yet hungry for blood.
“You can do this, Laurana,” said Gilthanas earnestly. “You have to. Otherwise, there’s no hope for any of us.”
If Tanis were only here… Laurana stopped herself from thinking that. Tanis wasn’t here. She couldn’t depend on him or anyone else. This was up to her. The gods had given her the frostreaver. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t asked for it. She didn’t want it. She seemed a very poor choice. She wasn’t a knight. She wasn’t a warrior. Yet even as she thought this and railed against her fate, ideas on how she could attack the wizard began crystallizing in her mind. She spoke her thoughts as they came to her, almost without realizing what she was saying.
“He mustn’t see me coming. If he does, he might start to shift back to his true form. Gil, find somewhere you can use your bow. Keep his attention fixed on the battle, and if you can, drive him away from the rest of the pack.”
Gilthanas looked at her, startled, then gave an abrupt nod. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. It’s my fault.” “No, Gil,” she said. “I made my own choices.” She thought back to the day she had run away from home to follow after Tanis. That choice had led her to the knowledge of the gods, to knowledge of herself. She was a far different person from the spoiled little girl she had once been. A far better person, or so she hoped. She wasn’t sorry, no matter what happened.
The circle of wolves began closing, moving in on their prey. Flint stood by her silently, stoutly.
“You can do it, lass,” he said in gruff assurance, then he added wistfully, “I wish I had time to teach you the proper way to wield that axe!”
She grinned at him. “I don’t think it’s going to make much difference.”
Gilthanas slipped to the tunnel opening, seeking a good location from which to use his bow. Laurana and Flint hurried down the tunnel’s slight incline and ventured out into the open. Feal-Thas did not hear them or see them, nor did the wolves. They were focused on the prey at hand, focused on the kill.
Tasslehoff had been having fun flipping his glasses up and down, seeing an elf one moment and a wolf the next. When this grew boring, he took off the glasses, looked about, and saw that he was alone.
Gilthanas had taken up a position at the end of the tunnel. He had drawn his bow and was nocking an arrow. Laurana, her frostreaver in her hands, was slipping up behind the pack of wolves. Flint was behind her, keeping one eye on the wolves and the other on Laurana.
“Try to hit his back, lass,” Flint told her. “Aim for the biggest part of him, and put your own back into it!”
Tas hurriedly thrust the glasses into a pocket and reached into his belt. There was Rabbitslayer, just where it always was, whether he had thought to bring it or not.
“Maybe after this I’ll rename you Wolf-Killer,” he promised the knife.
Tas started after his friends. He hadn’t been paying attention to Laurana’s orders to keep quiet, and he was about to raise his voice in a gleeful taunt when the words stuck in his throat.
The knights closed ranks, facing, as best they could, the coming onslaught. The wolves padded toward them, their eyes glittering red in the eerie light. Then snow began to fall, magical snow, drifting down out of the air. The light dimmed, hampering their ability to see.