Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [122]
Sturm peered up through the mist. “I wonder how many will be at the top?” he asked.
Tanis, too, glanced up. “Most have fled, I hope,” he said. He caught his breath sharply and clutched at his ribs.
There was a sudden lurch. The pot fell about a foot, stopped with a jolt, then slowly started to rise again. The companions looked at each other in alarm.
“The mechanism—”
“It’s either starting to collapse or the draconians have recognized us and are trying to destroy it,” Tanis said.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Sturm said in bitter frustration. He stared down at the pack containing the Disks, which lay at his feet. “Except pray to these gods—”
The pot lurched and dropped again. For a moment it hung, suspended, swaying in the mist-shrouded air. Then it started up, moving slowly, shuddering. The companions could see the edge of the rock ledge and the opening above them. The pot rose inch by creaking inch, each of those inside mentally supporting every link of the chain that was carrying them up to—
“Draconians!” cried Tas shrilly, pointing up.
Two draconians stared down at them. As the pot crept closer and closer, Tanis saw the draconians crouch, ready to jump.
“They’re going to leap down here! The pot won’t hold!” Flint rumbled. “We’ll crash!”
“That may be their intent,” Tanis said. “They have wings.”
“Stand back,” Raistlin said, staggering to his feet.
“Raist, don’t!” His brother caught hold of him. “You’re too weak.”
“I have strength for one more spell,” the mage whispered. “But it may not work. If they see I am magi, they may be able to resist my magic.”
“Hide behind Caramon’s shield,” Tanis said swiftly. The big man thrust his body and his shield in front of his brother.
The mist swirled around them, concealing them from draconian eyes but also preventing them from seeing the draconians. The pot rose, inch by inch, the chain creaking and lurching upward. Raistlin stood poised behind Caramon’s shield, his strange eyes staring, waiting for the mists to part.
Cool air touched Tanis’s cheek. A breeze swirled the mists apart, just for an instant. The draconians were so close they could have almost touched them! The draconians saw them at the same time. One spread its wings and floated down toward the pot, sword in hand, shrieking in triumph.
Raistlin spoke. Caramon moved his shield and the mage spread his thin fingers. A ball of white shot from his hands, hitting the draconian squarely in the chest. The ball exploded, covering the creature in sticky webbing. Its cry of triumph changed to a horrifying shriek as the webbing tangled its wings. It plummeted into the mist, its body striking the edge of the iron pot as it fell. The pot began to rock and sway.
“There’s still one more!” Raistlin gasped, sinking to his knees. “Hold me up, Caramon, help me stand. The mage began to cough violently, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Raist!” his brother pleaded, dropping his shield and catching his fainting twin. “Stop! There’s nothing you can do. You’ll kill yourself!”
A look of command was enough. The warrior supported his brother as the mage began to speak again the eerie-sounding language of magic.
The remaining draconian hesitated, still hearing the yells of its fallen companion. It knew the human was a magic-user. It also knew that it could probably resist the magic. But this human facing it was like no human magic-user it had ever encountered. The human’s body seemed weak practically to the point of death, but a strong aura of power surrounded him.
The mage raised his hand, pointing at the creature. The draconian cast one last, vicious glance at the companions, then turned and fled. Raistlin, unconscious, sank into his brother’s arms as the pot completed its journey to the surface.
22
Bupu’s gift. An ominous sight.
Just as they pulled Riverwind out of