Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [60]
“Seekers! Hah!” Raistlin snorted. “Open your eyes, Half-Elf. Someone or something powerful created these creatures—these draconians. Not the idiot Seekers. And no one goes to all that trouble to take over two farm cities or even to look for a blue crystal staff. This is a war of conquest, Tanis. Someone seeks to conquer Ansalon! Within two days time, life on Krynn as we have known it will come to an end. This is the portent of the fallen stars. The Queen of Darkness has returned. We face a foe who seeks—at the very least—to enslave us, or perhaps destroy us completely.”
“Your advice?” Tanis asked reluctantly. He felt change coming and, like all elves, he feared and detested change.
Raistlin smiled his crooked, bitter smile, reveling in his moment of superiority. “That we go to Xak Tsaroth immediately. That we leave tonight, if possible, by whatever means this Forestmaster has planned. If we do not acquire this gift within two days—the armies of draconians will.”
“What do you think the gift might be?” Tanis wondered aloud. “A sword or coins, like Caramon said?”
“My brother’s a fool,” Raistlin stated coldly. “You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
“Then what?” Tanis pursued.
Raistlin’s eyes narrowed. “I have given you my advice. Act upon it as you will. I have my own reasons for going. Let us leave it at that, Half-Elf. But it will be dangerous. Xak Tsaroth was abandoned three hundred years ago. I do not think it will have remained abandoned long.”
“That is true,” Tanis mused. He stood silently for long moments. The mage coughed once, softly. “Do you believe we were chosen, Raistlin?” Tanis asked.
The mage did not hesitate. “Yes. So I was given to know in the Towers of Sorcery. So Par-Salian told me.”
“But why?” Tanis questioned impatiently. “We are not the stuff of heroes—well, maybe Sturm—”
“Ah,” said Raistlin. “But who chose us? And for what purpose? Consider that, Tanis Half-Elven!”
The mage bowed to Tanis, mockingly, and turned to walk back through the brush to the rest of the group.
12
Winged sleep. Smoke in the east.
Dark memories.
Xak Tsaroth,” Tanis said. “That is my decision.”
“Is that what the mage advises?” Sturm asked sullenly. “It is,” Tanis answered, “and I believe his advice is sound. If we do not reach Xak Tsaroth within two days, others will and this ‘greatest gift’ may be lost forever.”
“The greatest gift!” Tasslehoff said, his eyes shining. “Just think, Flint! Jewels beyond price! Or maybe—”
“A keg of ale and Otik’s fried potatoes,” the dwarf muttered. “And a nice warm fire. But no—Xak Tsaroth!”
“I guess we’re all in agreement, then,” Tanis said. “If you feel you are needed in the north, Sturm, of course you—”
“I will go with you to Xak Tsaroth.” Sturm sighed. “There is nothing in the north for me. I have been deluding myself. The knights of my order are scattered, holed up in crumbling fortresses, fighting off the debt collectors.”
The knight’s face twisted in agony and he lowered his head. Tanis suddenly felt tired. His neck hurt, his shoulders and back ached, his leg muscles twitched. He started to say something more, then felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see Goldmoon’s face, cool and calm in the moonlight.
“You are weary, my friend,” she said. “We all are. But we are glad you are coming, Riverwind and I.” Her hand was strong. She looked up, her clear gaze encompassing the entire group. “We are glad all of you are coming with us.”
Tanis, glancing at Riverwind, wasn’t certain the tall Plainsman agreed with her.
“Just another adventure,” Caramon said, flushing with embarrassment. “Eh, Raist?” He nudged his brother. Raistlin, ignoring his twin, looked at the Forestmaster.
“We must leave immediately,” the mage said coldly. “You mentioned something about helping us cross the mountains.”
“Indeed,” the Forestmaster replied, nodding gravely. “I, too, am glad you have made this decision. I hope you find my aid welcome.”
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