Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [121]
Berem’s voice faltered. “So tired,” he said, his head dropping into his hands. “I want it to end!”
The companions sat silently for long moments, trying to make sense of a story that seemed like something an old nursemaid might have told in the dark hours of the night.
“What must you do to shut this door?” Tanis asked Berem.
“I don’t know,” Berem said, his voice muffled. “I only know that I feel drawn to Neraka, yet it’s the one place on the face of Krynn I dare not enter! That’s—that’s why I ran away.”
“But you’re going to enter it,” Tanis said slowly and firmly. “You’re going to enter it with us. We’ll be with you. You won’t be alone.”
Berem shivered and shook his head, whimpering. Then suddenly he stopped and looked up, his face flushed. “Yes!” he cried. “I cannot stand it anymore! I will go with you! You’ll protect me—”
“We’ll do our best,” Tanis muttered, seeing Caramon roll his eyes, then look away. “We’d better find the way out.”
“I found it.” Berem sighed. “I was nearly through, when I heard the dwarf cry out. This way.” He pointed to another narrow cleft between the rocks. Caramon sighed, glancing ruefully at the scratches on his arms. One by one, the companions entered the cleft.
Tanis was the last. Turning, he looked back once more upon the barren place. Darkness was falling swiftly, the azure blue sky deepening to purple and finally to black. The strange boulders were shrouded in the gathering gloom. He could no longer see the dark pool of rock where Fizban had vanished.
It seemed odd to think of Flint being gone. There was a great emptiness inside of him. He kept expecting to hear the dwarf’s grumbling voice complain about his various aches and pains or argue with the kender.
For a moment Tanis struggled with himself, holding onto his friend as long as he could. Then, silently, he let Flint go. Turning, he crept through the narrow cleft in the rocks, leaving Godshome, never to see it again.
Once back on the trail, they followed it until they came to a small cave. Here they huddled together, not daring to build a fire this near to Neraka, the center of the might of the dragonarmies. For a while, no one spoke, then they began to talk about Flint—letting him go—as Tanis had done. Their memories were good ones, recalling Flint’s rich, adventurous life.
They laughed heartily when Caramon recounted the tale of the disastrous camping trip, how he had overturned the boat, trying to catch a fish by hand, knocking Flint into the water. Tanis recalled how Tas and the dwarf had met when Tas “accidentally” walked off with a bracelet Flint had made and was trying to sell at a fair. Tika remembered the wonderful toys he had made for her. She recalled his kindness when her father disappeared, how he had taken the young girl into his own home until Otik had given her a place to live and work.
All these and more memories they recalled until, by the end of the evening, the bitter sting had gone out of their grief, leaving only the ache of loss.
That is—for most of them.
Late, late in the dark watches of the night, Tasslehoff sat outside the cave entrance, staring up into the stars. Flint’s helm was clutched in his small hands, tears streamed unchecked down his face.
KENDER MOURNING SONG
Always before, the spring returned.
The bright world in its cycle spun
In air and flowers, grass and fern,
Assured and cradled by the sun.
Always before, you could explain
The turning darkness of the earth,
And how that dark embraced the rain,
And gave the ferns and flowers birth.
Already I forget those things,
And how a vein of gold survives
The mining of a thousand springs,
The seasons of a thousand