Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [46]
He frowned. There was something wrong. He couldn’t place it immediately, so he said nothing to Riverwind but stared at the skyline. Storm clouds massed in the north more thickly than ever, long gray fingers raking the land. And reaching up to meet them—that was it! Gripping Riverwind’s arm, Tanis stabbed his finger northward. Riverwind looked, squinting, seeing nothing at first. Then he saw it, black smoke drifting into the sky. His thick, heavy brows contracted.
“Campfires,” Tanis said.
“Many hundred campfires,” Riverwind amended softly. “The fires of war. That is an army encampment.”
“So the rumors are confirmed,” Sturm said when they returned. “There is an army to the north.”
“But what army? Whose? And why? What are they going to attack?” Caramon laughed incredulously. “No one would send an army after this staff.” The warrior paused. “Would they?”
“The staff is but a part of this,” Raistlin hissed. “Remember the fallen stars!”
“Children’s stories!” Flint sniffed. He upended the empty wineskin, shook it, and sighed.
“My stories are not for children,” Raistlin said viciously, twisting up from the leaves like a snake. “And you would do well to heed my words, dwarf!”
“There it is! There’s the stag!” Sturm said suddenly, his eyes staring straight at a large boulder—or so it seemed to his companions. “It is time to go.”
The knight began walking. The others hastily gathered their gear together and hurried after him. As they climbed ever farther up the trail—which seemed to materialize before them as they went—the wind switched and began blowing from the south. It was a warm breeze, carrying with it the fragrance of late-blooming autumn wildflowers. It drove back the storm clouds and just as they came to the cleft between the two halves of the Peak, the sun broke free.
It was well past midday when they stopped to rest for one more brief period before attempting the climb through the narrow gap between the walls of Prayer’s Eye Peak through which Sturm said they must go. The stag had led the way, he insisted.
“It’ll be suppertime soon,” Caramon said. He heaved a gusty sigh, staring at his feet. “I could eat my boots!”
“They’re beginning to look good to me, too,” Flint said grumpily. “I wish that stag was flesh and blood. It might be useful for something besides getting us lost!”
“Shut up!” Sturm turned on the dwarf in a sudden rage, his fists clenched. Tanis rose quickly, put his hand on the knight’s shoulder, holding him back.
Sturm stood glaring at the dwarf, moustaches quivering, then he jerked away from Tanis. “Let’s go,” he muttered.
As the companions entered the narrow defile, they could see clear blue sky on the other side. The south wind whistled across the steep white walls of the Peak soaring above them. They walked carefully, small stones causing their feet to slip more than once. Fortunately, the way was so narrow that they could easily regain their balance by catching themselves against the steep walls.
After about thirty minutes of walking, they came out on the other side of Prayer’s Eye Peak. They halted, staring down into a valley. Lush, grassy meadowland flowed in green waves below them to lap on the shores of a light-green aspen forest far to the south. The storm clouds were behind them, and the sun shone brightly in a clear, azure sky.
For the first