Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [163]
“Thank the gods of the Seekers!” he said hoarsely. “My friends—are they all dead?”
“Worry about yourself first,” Sturm said sternly. “Tell us who your friends were—the humans or the hobgoblins?”
“The humans—fighters against the dragonmen.” The man broke off, his eyes widening. “Gilthanas?”
“Eben,” Gilthanas said in quiet surprise. “How did you survive the battle at the ravine?”
“How did you, for that matter?” The man named Eben tried to stagger to his feet. Caramon reached out a hand to help him when suddenly Eben pointed. “Look out! Drac—”
Caramon whipped around, letting Eben fall back with a groan. The others turned to see twelve draconians standing at the edge of the clearing, weapons drawn.
“All strangers in the land are to be taken to the Dragon Highlord for questioning,” one called out. “We charge you to come with us peacefully.”
“No one was supposed to know about this path to Sla-Mori,” Sturm whispered to Tanis with a meaningful glance at Gilthanas. “According to the elf, that is!”
“We do not take orders from Lord Verminaard!” Tanis yelled, ignoring Sturm.
“You will, soon enough,” the draconian said and waved its arm. The creatures surged forward to attack.
Fizban, standing near the edge of the woods, pulled something from his pouch and began to mumble a few words.
“Not Fireball!” Raistlin hissed, grabbing the old mage’s arm. “You’ll incinerate everyone out there!”
“Oh, really? I suppose you’re right.” The old mage sighed in disappointment, then brightened. “Wait, I’ll think of something else.”
“Just stay here, under cover!” Raistlin ordered. “I’m going to my brother.”
“Now, what was that web spell?” The old man pondered.
Tika, her new sword drawn and ready, trembled with fear and excitement. One draconian rushed her and she swung a tremendous blow. The blade missed the draconian by a mile, Caramon’s head by inches. Pulling Tika behind him, he knocked the draconian down with the flat of his sword. Before it could rise, he stepped on its throat, breaking its neck.
“Get behind me,” he said to Tika, then glanced down at the sword she was still waving around wildly. “On second thought,” Caramon amended nervously, “run over to those trees with the old man and Goldmoon. There’s a good girl.”
“I will not!” Tika said indignantly. “I’ll show him,” she muttered, her sweaty palms slipping on the hilt of the sword. Two more draconians charged Caramon, but his brother was beside him now—the two combining magic and steel to destroy their enemy. Tika knew she would only get in their way, and she feared Raistlin’s anger more than she feared draconians. She looked around to see if anyone needed her help. Sturm and Tanis fought side by side. Gilthanas made an unlikely team with Flint, while Tasslehoff, his hoopak planted solidly in the ground, sent a deadly barrage of rocks whizzing onto the field. Goldmoon stood beneath the trees, Riverwind near her. The old magician had pulled out a spellbook and was flipping through its pages.
“Web … web … how did that go?” he mumbled.
“Aaarrrgghh!” A screech behind Tika nearly caused her to swallow her tongue. Whirling around, she dropped her sword in alarm as a draconian, laughing horribly, launched itself into the air straight at her. Panic-stricken, Tika gripped her shield in both hands and struck the draconian in its hideous, reptilian face. The impact nearly jarred the shield from her hands, but it knocked the creature onto its back, unconscious. Tika picked up her sword and, grimacing in disgust, stabbed the creature through the heart. Its body immediately turned to stone, encasing her sword. Tika yanked at it, but it remained stuck fast.
“Tika, to your left!” yelled Tasslehoff shrilly.
Tika stumbled around and saw another draconian. Swinging her shield,