Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [76]
“You know, Laurana,” he continued, somewhat sadly, “everyone always underestimates us kender. Bakaris really should have searched my pouches. Say, that was a neat fainting trick you pulled. Did you—”
“How’s Flint?” Laurana interrupted, not wanting to remember those last few horrible moments. Without quite knowing what she was doing or why, she pulled her cape from her shoulders and threw it down over the bearded face. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“He’ll be all right,” Tas said, glancing over at the dwarf, who was groaning and shaking his head. “What about the wyvern? Do you think they’ll attack us?”
“I don’t know,” Laurana said, eyeing the animals. The wyvern stared around uneasily, uncertain as to what had happened to their master. “I’ve heard they’re not very smart. They generally won’t act on their own. Maybe—if we don’t make any sudden moves—we can escape into the forest before they figure out what’s happened. Help Flint.”
“Come on, Flint,” Tas said urgently, tugging at the dwarf. “We’ve got to esc—”
The kender’s voice was cut off by a wild cry, a cry of such fear and terror that it made Tas’s hair stand on end. Looking up, he saw Laurana staring at a figure that had—apparently—emerged from the cave. At the sight of the figure, Tasslehoff felt the most terrible sensation sweep over his body. His heart raced, his hands went cold, he couldn’t breathe.
“Flint!” he managed to gasp before his throat closed completely.
The dwarf, hearing a tone in the kender’s voice he’d never heard before, struggled to sit up. “What—”
Tas could only point.
Flint focused his bleary vision in the direction Tas indicated.
“In the name of Reorx,” the dwarf said, his voice breaking, “what is that?”
The figure moved relentlessly toward Laurana, who—held spellbound at its command—could do nothing but stare at it. Dressed in antique armor, it might have been a Knight of Solamnia. But the armor was blackened as if it had been burned by fire. An orange light flared beneath its helm, while the helm itself seemed perched on empty air.
The figure reached out an armored arm. Flint choked in horror. The armored arm did not end in a hand. The knight seemingly grasped hold of Laurana with nothing but air. But she screamed in pain, falling to her knees in front of the ghastly vision. Her head slumped forward, she collapsed, senseless from the chill touch. The knight released his grip, letting the inert body slip to the ground. Bending down, the knight lifted her in his arms.
Tas started to move, but the knight turned his flaring orange gaze upon him and the kender was held fast, gazing into the orange flame of the creature’s eyes. Neither he nor Flint could look away, though the horror was so great that the dwarf feared he might lose his reason. Only his love and concern for Laurana kept him clinging to consciousness. Over and over he told himself he must do something, he must save her. But he couldn’t make his trembling body obey. The knight’s flickering gaze swept over the two.
“Go back to Kalaman,” said a hollow voice. “Tell them we have the elfwoman. The Dark Lady will arrive tomorrow at noon, to discuss terms of surrender.”
Turning, the knight walked over Bakaris’s body, the figure’s shimmering armor passing right through the corpse as if it no longer existed. Then the knight vanished into the dark shadows of the woods, carrying Laurana in his arms.
With the knight’s departure, the spell was lifted. Tas, feeling weak and sick, began to shiver uncontrollably. Flint struggled to his feet.
“I’m going after it—” the dwarf muttered, though his hands shook so he could barely lift his helm from the dirt.
“N-no,” stammered Tasslehoff, his face strained and white as he stared after the knight. “Whatever that thing was, we can’t fight it. I—I was scared, Flint!” The kender shook his head in misery. “I—I’m sorry, but I can’t face that, that thing again! We’ve got to go back to Kalaman. Maybe we can get help—”
Tas started off into the woods