Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [34]
“Two days ago—” She paused, had it really been only two days? It seemed a lifetime! Sighing, she continued. “He presented the staff to my father, telling him it had been given to him by a goddess, though he did not know her name. My father looked at this staff”—Goldmoon held it up—“and commanded it to do something, anything. Nothing happened. He threw it back to Riverwind, proclaiming him a fraud, and ordered the people to stone him to death as punishment for his blasphemy!”
Goldmoon’s face grew pale as she spoke, Riverwind’s face dark and shadowed.
“The tribe bound Riverwind and dragged him to the Grieving Wall,” she said, barely speaking above a whisper. “They started hurling rocks. He looked at me with so much love and he shouted that not even death would separate us. I couldn’t bear the thought of living my life alone, without him. I ran to him. The rocks struck us—” Goldmoon put her hand to her forehead, wincing in remembered pain, and Tanis’s attention was drawn to a fresh, jagged scar on her tanned skin. “There was a blinding flash of light. When Riverwind and I could see again, we were standing on the road outside of Solace. The staff glowed blue, then dimmed and faded until it is as you see it now. It was then we determined to go to Haven and ask the wise men at the temple about the staff.”
“Riverwind,” Tanis asked, troubled, “what do you remember of this broken city? Where was it?”
Riverwind didn’t answer. He glanced at Tanis out of the corner of his dark eyes, and it was obvious his thoughts had been far away. Then he stared off into the shadowy trees.
“Tanis Half-Elven,” he finally said. “That is your name?”
“Among humans, that is what I am called,” Tanis answered. “My elvish name is long and difficult for humans to pronounce.”
Riverwind frowned. “Why is it,” he asked, “that you are called half-elf and not half-man?”
The question struck Tanis like a blow across the face. He could almost envision himself sprawling in the dirt and had to force himself to stop and swallow an angry retort. He knew Riverwind was asking this question for a reason. It had not been meant as an insult. This was a test, Tanis realized. He chose his words carefully.
“According to humans, half an elf is but part of a whole being. Half a man is a cripple.”
Riverwind considered this, finally nodded once, abruptly, and answered Tanis’s question.
“I wandered many long years,” he replied. “Often I had no idea where I was. I followed the sun and the moons and the stars. My last journey is like a dark dream.” He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking from some great distance. “It was a city once beautiful, with white buildings supported by tall columns of marble. But it is now as if some great hand had picked up the city and cast it down a mountainside. The city is now very old and very evil.”
“Death on black wings,” Tanis said softly.
“It rose like a god from the darkness, its creatures worshiped it, shrieking and howling.” The Plainsman’s face paled beneath his sun-baked skin. He was sweating in the chill morning air. “I can speak of it no more!” Goldmoon laid her hand on his arm, and the tension in his face eased.
“And out of the horror came a woman who gave you the staff?” Tanis pursued.
“She healed me,” Riverwind said simply. “I was dying.”
Tanis stared intently at the staff Goldmoon held in her hand. It was just a plain, ordinary staff that he never noticed until his attention was called to it. A strange device was carved on the top, and feathers—such as the barbarians admire—were tied around it. Yet he had seen it glow blue! He had felt its healing powers. Was this a gift from ancient gods—come to aid them in their time of need? Or was it evil? What did he know of these