Dragons of the Autumn Twilight - Margaret Weis [73]
Caramon raised his head to confront the monster, his eyes blurred with tears and blood from the many cuts the bamboo had inflicted on his face. The dragon loomed above him, seen dimly through the smoke rising from the bonfire.
“We mete out justice swiftly and surely, human scum,” the dragon hissed. As it spoke, it beat its huge wings, fanning them slowly. The draconians gasped and began to back up, some stumbling over themselves as they hurried to get out of the monster’s way. Obviously they knew what was coming.
Caramon stared at the creature without fear. “My brother is dying,” he shouted. “Do what you will to me. I ask only one thing. Give me my sword so that I can die fighting!”
The dragon laughed shrilly; the draconians joined it, gurgling and croaking horribly. As the dragon’s wings beat the air, it began to rock back and forth, seemingly preparing to leap on the warrior and devour him.
“This will be fun. Let him have his weapon,” the dragon commanded. Its flapping wings caused a wind to whip through the camp, scattering sparks from the fire.
Caramon shoved the draconian guards aside. Wiping his hand across his eyes, he walked over to the pile of weapons and pulled out his sword. Then he turned to face the dragon, resignation and grief etched into his face. He raised his sword.
“We can’t let him die out there by himself!” Sturm said harshly, and he took a step forward, prepared to break out.
Suddenly a voice came from the shadows behind them.
“Hssst … Tanis!”
The half-elf whirled around. “Flint!” he exclaimed, then glanced apprehensively at the draconian guards, but they were absorbed in watching the spectacle of Caramon and the dragon. Tanis hurried to the back of the bamboo cage where the dwarf stood.
“Get out of here!” the half-elf ordered. “There’s nothing you can do. Raistlin’s dying, and the dragon—”
“Is Tasslehoff,” Flint said succinctly.
“What?” Tanis glared at the dwarf. “Make sense.”
“The dragon is Tasslehoff,” Flint repeated patiently.
For once Tanis was speechless. He stared at the dwarf.
“The dragon’s made of wicker,” the dwarf whispered hurriedly. “Tasslehoff sneaked behind it and looked inside. It’s rigged! Anyone sitting inside the dragon can make the wings flap and speak through a hollow tube. I guess that’s how the priests keep order around here. Anyway, Tasslehoff’s the one flapping his wings and threatening to eat Caramon.”
Tanis gasped. “But what do we do? There’s still a hundred draconians around. Sooner or later they’re going to realize what’s going on.”
“Get over to Caramon, you and Riverwind and Sturm. Grab your weapons and packs and the staff. I’ll help Goldmoon carry Raistlin into the woods. Tasslehoff’s got something in mind. Just be ready.”
Tanis groaned.
“I don’t like it any better than you do,” the dwarf growled. “Trusting our lives to that rattle-brained kender. But, well, he is the dragon, after all.”
“He certainly is,” Tanis said, eyeing the dragon who was shrieking and wailing and flapping its wings and rocking back and forth. The draconians were staring at it in open-mouthed wonder. Tanis grabbed Sturm and Riverwind and huddled down near Goldmoon, who had not left Raistlin’s side. The half-elf explained what was happening. Sturm looked at him as if he were as crazed as Raistlin. Riverwind shook his head.
“Well, have you got a better plan?” Tanis asked.
Both of them looked at the dragon, then back at Tanis, and shrugged.
“Goldmoon goes with the dwarf,” Riverwind said.
She started to protest. He looked at her, his eyes expressionless, and she swallowed and fell silent.
“Yes,” Tanis said. “Stay with Raistlin, lady, please. We’ll bring the staff to you.”
“Hurry then,” she said through white lips. “He is very nearly gone.”
“We’ll hurry,” Tanis said grimly. “I have a feeling that once things get started out there, we’re going to be moving very fast!”