"Maybe I'll see Uncle Flint tonight," Jasper reflected, "or maybe I'll have another vision of that ship. Mmm… what was it called again? Flint's Anvil. That's it. The ship with the barbarian cap'n who carried all the knives. I'd kinda like to see how that's gonna turn out. Can't imagine me on a ship, though, an' in the company of a kender. The ground's much better than the sea. Doesn't move aroun'. The ground an' these stairs."
"Take it easy, Goldmoon." Camilla Weoledge took the aging healer's hand and guided it to her forehead so she could feel the considerable bump.
The healer blinked to clear her senses. She was inside her tent, lying on her cot, the Solamnic Commander at her side and looking entirely sympathetic. She felt a little thirsty, and she made a move to get up. The knight helped her. There was a pitcher of water on her table, next to the lantern.
The lantern. It burned almost cheerfully.
"Camilla, how long have I been here?"
The knight pursed her lips. "Several hours, Goldmoon."
"You've been here with me?"
Camilla nodded. "The entire time. Gave me some time to think… about a lot of things. Primarily what you said about mysticism being a gift from the gods." She made a huffing sound and ran her fingers through her tight curls. "Sometimes I take a rather narrow view of things, I'm afraid. I've certainly been too harsh a judge on you, Goldmoon, when it wasn't at all my place to judge. I've been critical of the citadel, and the citadel's not such a bad idea, really. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."
Goldmoon found herself smiling. "What happened?" She touched the bump on her head again and cringed.
"You must've fallen quite a way," the knight replied. "Orvago started howling so loud he got everyone's attention real fast. We all came running and saw you on the ground. What were you thinking, trying to climb the stair in broad daylight? None of us could see it, but Jasper said it was there."
"It's always there. It's just unmasked in the moonlight."
"Jasper healed you, and Orvago carried you in here. You've been out for hours. You obviously needed the rest, and-"
"By the memory of Mishakal! Did you say hours?" She fought a sensation of dizziness, grabbed on to the table and stared at the lantern.
"Most of the day, anyway. Why don't you take it easy and I'll go get Jasper. He'll be pleased you're awake. I'll find some dinner for you, too."
"Dinner?"
"There's bound to be some left."
"It's that late?" Goldmoon edged away from table and focused on her heart to give her strength.
"Some cider, too, and-"
"No." Goldmoon remembered exactly what had happened. She met Camilla's gaze. "It was Gair. Somehow he made me fall off the Silver Stair. He was inside my head." She swallowed and closed her eyes, reaching inside herself. "Thank the memory of Mishakal he's not there now."
Camilla looked puzzled, but she remained silent. She watched the healer gather her cloak and wrap it around herself, then kneel beside her cot and pull out a long, wrapped bundle. She reverently untied it.
Inside was a staff, plain-looking and covered with whorls and knots. It shone softly in the light of the lantern. Goldmoon gently tugged it free. It was wholly unremarkable save for a leather thong that was tied near one end, from which dangled brilliantly colorful feathers and beads. The healer ran her fingers along a whorl.
"It's been a long time since I've used this." Goldmoon leaned on it for support as her eye was attracted to Camilla's hip. A long sword rested there, a different one than the knight usually carried. The pommel was uncharacteristically ornate for the commander's tastes. It was fashioned in the shape of a griffon's claw, the talons gold and gleaming and holding a red gem that glowed with an inner light.
"Have to get to the stair," she told the knight. There was resolve in her voice, in her expression. "I believe Gair is capable of destroying it." She fastened her cloak about her neck and brushed by the knight. "And capable of a lot more."
"Destroy the stair?"
"I believe that is his intention."
Camilla blew out the lantern and followed. "I'll station some of my men at the base-plenty of them this time. And we'll-"
A scream cut through the air, shrill and terrifying.
The healer cocked her head. "From the trail to Heartspring," she breathed.
The knight ran toward the trail, her young legs carrying her quickly across the snow-covered ground and leaving Goldmoon far behind. She motioned to Willum, who had paused to talk to Redstone. He had heard the scream, too, and had his sword drawn.
Another scream sliced through the air, and then another. A child was crying, too, the sobs distant and chilling. "The farmers!" she cried. "Gather the men!" The staccato words cut through the murmurs swelling in the settlement.
The dwarven builders were on their feet, several with hammers in hand, looking about for the source of the screams. The fishermen were pointing at the knights, gathering at the eastern side of the settlement where the trail to Heartspring began.
Parents were clutching their children to them, looking to Goldmoon for direction. The healer was waving everyone into the center of the clearing, save for the warriors among the settlers. These she was directing toward the Silver Stair.
Soldiers were falling into line, and Willum barked orders at them as he rushed toward Camilla. "Guard the settlement!"
Then the knights were clanking down the trail, running in the direction of the ongoing screams.
The top step had just come into view when Jasper heard the screams. The faint clank of armor and the chatter of the townsfolk were so soft from his high vantage point that it sounded like half-imagined whispers. He took another step up and then another, thinking that the screams were part of the vision he was about to have. One step away from the top.
He stopped and scratched his nose, looking down at the mist that cloaked the ground so far below. He strained his ears. "By Reorx's beard, I think somethin's goin' on below!"
The dwarf took another glance at the topmost step, shimmering invitingly mere feet away, then he carefully turned around and started down. "Ship'll have to wait for later." He resumed talking to himself as his stocky legs moved quickly-but not too quickly- down the steps. "Yep, somethin's goin' on. Don't have much built yet on the citadel for anybody to destroy. Got to be new trouble."
There was a shape below him on the steps, just emerging from the mist. "Turn aroun'." He waved to the man. "Trouble at the settlement. Gotta get to it. Hurry up."
The shape paused.
"Go on!" Jasper urged. "I can't get aroun' you. Get movin!" The dwarf waved his thick arms, then slowed his pace as his frantic waving almost made him lose his balance.
"Be careful," the other figure said. "I wouldn't want you to fall, like Goldmoon did this morning."
The dwarf stopped and peered through the darkness, using the light from the steps to help him see the figure. "Gair?"
"I had hoped you hadn't forgotten me already."
A shiver raced down the dwarf's spine, and his fingers edged down to lock around the handle of his hammer.
Camilla raced down the trail, Willum close on her heels. Behind them ran more than a dozen knights, some who were still struggling to put on pieces of their armor. The moon was climbing higher, and that coupled with the starlight reflecting off the snow guided their way.
The trail to Heartspring still remained buried beneath several feet of snow, but there was a path through the drifts, cut by people traveling back and forth. It was narrow, and no more than two of the knights could move side by side without finding themselves in thigh-deep snow.
The screams continued, panicked and terrifying.
Willum was humming in his throat. "Must be a family," he huffed. "I think I heard a child."