Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [171]
“I was looking for Caramon,” Tanis muttered. “They must have brought him here.”
“Caramon?” exclaimed Laurana in astonishment. “What—”
“He came with me,” Tanis said. “So did Tika and Tas and … Flint,” He stopped, then shook his head. “Well, if they were here, they’re gone now. Come on.”
Laurana’s face flushed. She glanced back up the stone stairs, then at Tanis again. “Tanis—” she began, faltering. He placed his hand over her mouth.
“There will be time to talk later. Now we must find our way out!”
As if to emphasize his words, another tremor shook the Temple. This one was sharper and stronger than the others, throwing Laurana up against a wall. Tanis’s face, white with fatigue and pain, grew even paler as he fought to keep his footing.
A loud rumble and a shattering crash came from the northern corridor. All sound in the prison cells ceased abruptly as a great cloud of dust and dirt billowed out into the hallway.
Tanis and Laurana fled. Debris showered down around them as they ran east, stumbling over bodies and piles of jagged broken stone.
Another tremor rocked the Temple. They could not stand. Falling on hands and knees, they could do nothing but watch in terror as the corridor slowly shifted and moved, bending and twisting like a snake.
Crawling under a fallen beam, they huddled together, watching the floor and walls of the corridor leap and heave like waves upon the ocean. Above them, they could hear strange sounds, as of huge stones grinding together—not collapsing so much as shifting position. Then the tremor ceased. All was quiet.
Shakily they got to their feet and began running again, fear driving their aching bodies far beyond endurance. Every few minutes another tremor rocked the Temple’s foundations. But as often as Tanis expected the roof to cave in upon their heads, it remained standing. So strange and terrifying were the inexplicable sounds above them that they both might have welcomed the collapse of the ceiling as a relief. “Tanis!” cried Laurana suddenly. “Air! Night air!”
Wearily, summoning the last of their strength, the two made their way through the winding corridor until they came to a door swinging open on its hinges. There was a reddish blood stain on the floor and—“Tas’s pouches!” Tanis murmured. Kneeling down, he sorted through the kender’s treasures that lay scattered all over the floor. Then his heart sank. Grieving, he shook his head.
Laurana knelt beside him, her hand closed over his.
“At least he was here, Tanis. He got this far. Maybe he escaped.”
“He would never have left his treasures,” Tanis said. Sinking down on the shaking floor, the half-elf stared outside into Neraka. “Look,” he said to Laurana harshly, pointing. “This is the end, just as it was the end for the kender. Look!” he demanded angrily, seeing her face settling into its stubborn calm, seeing her refusing to admit defeat.
Laurana looked.
The cool breeze on her face seemed a mockery to her now, for it brought only smells of smoke and blood and the anguished cries of the dying. Orange flames lit the sky where wheeling dragons fought and died as their Highlords sought to escape or strove for mastery. The night air blazed with the crackling of lightning bolts and burned with flame. Draconians roamed the streets, killing anything that moved, slaughtering each other in their frenzy.
“So evil turns upon itself,” Laurana whispered, laying her head on Tanis’s shoulder, watching the terrible spectacle in awe.
“What was that?” he asked wearily.
“Something Elistan used to say,” she replied. The Temple shook around them.
“Elistan!” Tanis laughed bitterly. “Where are his gods now? Watching from their castles among the stars, enjoying the show? The Dark Queen is gone, the Temple destroyed. And here we are—trapped. We wouldn’t live three minutes out there—”
Then his breath caught in his throat. Gently he pushed Laurana away from him as he leaned over, his hand searching through