Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [114]
“Don’t worry, lad,” Flint said gruffly, patting the half-elf on the arm. “We’ll find him.”
“I’m sorry, Tanis,” Caramon mumbled. “I was thinking about—about Raist. I—I know I shouldn’t—”
“How in the name of the Abyss does that blasted brother of yours work mischief when he’s not even here!” Tanis shouted. Then he caught himself. “I’m sorry, Caramon,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “Don’t blame yourself. I should have been watching, too. We all should have. We’ve got to backtrack anyway, unless Fizban can take us through solid rock … no, don’t even consider it, old man.… Berem can’t have gone far and his trail should be easy to pick up. He’s not skilled in woodlore.”
Tanis was right. After an hour tracing back their own footsteps, they discovered a small animal trail none of them had noticed in passing. It was Flint who saw the man’s tracks in the mud. Calling excitedly to the others, the dwarf plunged into the brush, following the clearly marked trail easily. The rest hurried after him, but the dwarf seemed to have experienced an unusual surge of energy. Like a hunting hound who knows the prey is just ahead of him, Flint trampled over tangleshoot vines and hacked his way through the undergrowth without pause. He quickly outdistanced them.
“Flint!” Tanis shouted more than once. “Wait up!”
But the group fell farther and farther behind the excited dwarf until they lost sight of him altogether. Flint’s trail proved even clearer than Berem’s, however. They had little difficulty following the print of the dwarf’s heavy boots, not to mention the broken tree limbs and uprooted vines that marked his passing.
Then suddenly they were brought to a halt.
They had reached another rock cliff, but this time there was a way through—a hole in the rock formed a narrow tunnel-like opening. The dwarf had entered easily—they could see his tracks—but it was so narrow that Tanis stared at it in dismay.
“Berem got through it,” Caramon said grimly, pointing at a smear of fresh blood on the rock.
“Maybe,” Tanis said dubiously. “See what’s on the other side, Tas,” he ordered, reluctant to enter until he was certain he was not being led a merry chase.
Tasslehoff crawled through with ease, and soon they heard his shrill voice exclaiming in wonder over something, but it echoed so they had trouble understanding his words.
Suddenly Fizban’s face brightened. “This is it!” cried the old mage in high glee. “We’ve found it! Godshome! The way in, through this passageway!”
“There’s no other way?” Caramon asked, staring at the narrow opening gloomily.
Fizban appeared thoughtful. “Well, I seem to recall—”
Then, “Tanis! Hurry!” came through quite clearly from the other side.
“No more dead ends. We’ll get through this way,” Tanis muttered, “somehow.”
Crawling on hands and knees, the companions crept into the narrow opening. The way did not become easier; sometimes they were forced to flatten themselves and slither through the mud like snakes. Broad-shouldered Caramon had the worst time, and for a while Tanis thought perhaps they might have to leave the big man behind. Tasslehoff waited for them on the other side, peering in at them anxiously as they crawled.
“I heard something, Tanis,” he kept saying. “Flint shouting. Up ahead. And wait until you see this place, Tanis! You won’t believe it!”
But Tanis couldn’t take time to listen or look around, not until everyone was safely through the tunnel. It took all of them, pulling and tugging, to drag Caramon through and when he finally emerged, the skin on his arms and back was cut and bleeding.
“This is it!” Fizban stated. “We’re here.”
The half-elf turned around to see the place called Godshome.
“Not exactly the place I’d choose to live if I were a god,” Tasslehoff remarked in a subdued voice.
Tanis was forced to agree.
They stood at the edge of a circular depression in the center of a mountain. The first thing that struck Tanis when he looked upon Godshome was the overwhelming desolation and emptiness