“You’re awfully far away up there,” Tas said to the Platinum Dragon. “And you’ve got a whole world to watch, not just us. I’m sure you won’t mind if I guard our rest tonight, too. No disrepect intended, of course. It’s just that I have the feeling Someone Else up there is watching us tonight, too, if you take my meaning.” The kender shivered. “I don’t know why I feel so queer all of a sudden. Maybe it’s just being so close to Darken Wood and—well, I’m responsible for everyone apparently!”
It was an uncomfortable thought for a kender. Tas was accustomed to being responsible for himself, but when he’d traveled with Tanis and the others, there had always been someone else responsible for the group. There had been strong, skilled warriors—
What was that? He’d definitely heard something that time! Jumping up, Tas stood quietly, staring into the darkness. There was silence, then a rustle, then—
A squirrel. Tas heaved a sigh that came from his toes.
“While I’m up, I’ll just go put another log on the fire,” he said to himself. Hurrying over, he glanced at Caramon and felt a pang. It would have been much easier standing watch in the darkness if he knew he could count on Caramon’s strong arm. Instead, the warrior had fallen over on his back, his eyes closed, his mouth open, snoring in drunken contentment. Curled about Caramon’s boot, her head on his foot, Bupu’s snores mingled with his. Across from them, as far away as possible, Lady Crysania slept peacefully, her smooth cheek resting on her folded hands.
With a trembling sigh, Tas cast the logs on the fire. Watching it blaze up, he settled himself down to watch, staring intently into the night-shrouded trees whose whispering words now had an ominous tone. Then, there it was again.
“Squirrel!” Tas whispered resolutely.
Was that something moving in the shadows? There was a distinct crack—like a twig snapping in two. No squirrel did that! Tas fumbled about in his pouch until his hand closed over a small knife.
The forest was moving! The trees were closing in!
Tas tried to scream a warning, but a thin-limbed branch grabbed hold of his arm...
“Aiiii,” Tas shouted, twisting free and stabbing at the branch with his knife.
There was a curse and yelp of pain. The branch let loose its hold, and Tas breathed a sigh. No tree he had ever met yelped in pain. Whatever they were facing was living, breathing...
“Attack!” the kender yelled, stumbling backward. “Caramon! Help! Caramon—”
Two years before, the big warrior would have been on his feet instantly, his hand closing over the hilt of his sword, alert and ready for battle. But Tas, scrambling to get his back to the fire, his small knife the only thing keeping whatever it was at bay, saw Caramon’s head loll to one side in drunken contentment.
“Lady Crysania!” Tas screamed wildly, seeing more dark shapes creep from the woods. “Wake up! Please, wake up!”
He could feel the heat of the fire now. Keeping an eye on the menacing shadows, Tas reached down and grabbed a smoldering log by one end—he hoped it was the cool end. Lifting it up, he thrust the firebrand out before him.
There was movement as one of the creatures made a dive for him. Tas swiped out with his knife, driving it back. But in that instant, as it came into the light of his brand, he’d caught a glimpse of it.
“Caramon!” he shrieked. “Draconians!”
Lady Crysania was awake now; Tas saw her sit up, staring around in sleepy confusion.
“The fire!” Tas shouted to her desperately. “Get near the fire!” Stumbling over Bupu, the kender kicked Caramon. “Draconians!” he yelled again.
One of Caramon’s eyes opened, then the other, glaring around muzzily.
“Caramon! Thank the gods!” Tas gasped in relief.
Caramon sat up. Peering around the camp, completely disoriented and confused, he was still warrior enough to be hazily aware of danger. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he gripped the hilt of his sword and belched.
“Washit?” he mumbled, trying to focus his eyes.
“Draconians!” Tasslehoff screeched, hopping around like a small demon, waving his firebrand and his knife with such vigor that he actually succeeded in keeping his enemies at bay.
“Draconians?” Caramon muttered, staring around in disbelief. Then he caught a glimpse of a twisted reptilian face in the light of the dying fire. His eyes opened wide. “Draconians!” he snarled. “Tanis! Sturm! Come to me! Raistlin—your magic! We’ll take them.”
Yanking his sword from its scabbard, Caramon plunged ahead with a rumbling battle cry—and fell flat on his face.
Bupu clung to his foot.
“Oh, no!” Tas groaned.
Caramon lay on the ground, blinking and shaking his head in wonder, trying to figure out what hit him. Bupu, rudely awakened, began to howl in terror and pain, then bit Caramon on the ankle.
Tas started forward to help the fallen warrior—at least drag Bupu off him—when he heard a cry. Lady Crysania! Damn! He’d forgotten about her! Whirling around, he saw the cleric struggling with one of the dragonmen.
Tas hurtled forward and stabbed viciously at the draconian. With a shriek, it let loose of Crysania and fell backward, its body turning to stone at Tas’s feet. Just in time, the kender remembered to retrieve his knife or the stony corpse would have kept it fast.
Tas dragged Crysania back with him toward the fallen Caramon, who was trying to shake the gully dwarf off his leg. The draconians closed in. Glancing about feverishly, Tas saw they were surrounded by the creatures. But why weren’t they attacking full force? What were they waiting for?
“Are you all right?” he managed to ask Crysania.
“Yes,” she said. Though very pale, she appeared calm and—if frightened—was keeping her fear under control. Tas saw her lips move—presumably in silent prayer. The kender’s own lips tightened.
“Here, lady,” he said, shoving the firebrand in her hand. “I guess you’re going to have to fight and pray at the same time.”
“Elistan did. So can I,” Crysania said, her voice shaking only slightly.
Shouted commands rang out from the shadows. The voice wasn’t draconian. Tas couldn’t make it out. He only knew that just hearing it gave him cold chills. But there wasn’t time to wonder about it. The draconians, their tongues flicking out of their mouths, jumped for them. Crysania lashed out with the smoldering brand clumsily, but it was enough to make the draconians hesitate. Tas was still trying to pry Bupu off Caramon. But it was a draconian who, inadvertantly, came to their aid. Shoving Tas backward, the dragonman laid a clawed hand on Bupu.
Gully dwarves are noted throughout Krynn for their extreme cowardice and total unreliability in battle. But—when driven into a corner—they can fight like rabid rats.
“Glupsludge!” Bupu screamed in anger and, turning from gnawing on Caramon’s ankle, she sank her teeth into the scaly hide of the draconian’s leg.
Bupu didn’t have many teeth, but what she did have were sharp, and she bit into the draconian’s green flesh with a relish occasioned by the fact that she hadn’t eaten much dinner.
The draconian gave a hideous yell. Raising its sword, it was about to end Bupu’s days upon Krynn when Caramon—bumbling around trying to see what was going on—accidentally sliced off the creature’s arm. Bupu sat back, licking her lips, and looked about eagerly for another victim.
“Hurrah! Caramon!” Tas cheered wildly, his small knife stabbing here and there as swiftly as a striking snake. Lady Crysania smashed one draconian with her firebrand, crying out the name of Paladine. The creature pitched over.