The Magic Of Krynn (26 page)

I divided the remainder of our blubber between the other three and myself. Sturm stood
alone, chewing absently on his, watching Derek pace.

Elistan found a distant comer and assumed a meditative pose. Was he praying to Paladine-or
some false god instead? I longed for the ability to read minds. If Paladine really did
exist and Elistan was his cleric, why didn't he give me a sign?

“If you don't mind my saying so,” Tasslehoff interrupted my

thoughts, “this stuff is awful. Don't get me wrong-I truly appreciate you sharing your
food- but do your people really eat this all the time?”

“No,” I said, grinning. “Sometimes we eat raw fish.”

The kender's small face wrinkled with distaste. “Really? No spiced potatoes, no dwarf
spirits?” He shuddered. “I guess you can't help being what you are-but I'm glad I was born
a kender and not an Ice Folk!”

I did not tell him so, but I was glad as well.

Derek paced till he could stand it no more. “May we please continue looking for the orb
now?” he asked with sarcastic politeness. Laurana jerked awake.

“What?” she mumbled, dazed. “How long have I been asleep?” With a grimace, she forced
herself to her feet.

“Not long enough,” Sturm muttered, giving Derek an irritated glance.

Wincing, Laurana rubbed at the knotted muscles of her lower back. “Never mind.” She tried
to sound energetic. “Let's see if this cave leads anywhere.”

“It had better,” Derek said pointedly, glaring at me before storming off toward the back
of the cave. “Hurry up, Brightblade.”

Smothering a grin, Sturm clapped me encouragingly on the back and strode after the
impatient knight. Assuming his usual, disturbingly serene expression, Elistan gathered his
furs closer and joined Laurana.

Thankfully, the cave did lead to a tunnel, though where the tunnel led to was anyone's
guess.

We would soon find out.

“You know, I get the feeling we're overlooking something,” Tasslehoff muttered, dashing
between us to press his face to the cold, glassy walls. “I get this creepy feeling we're
being watched.”

“You are,” Sturm said, fondly tugging the kender's topknot, “by me.”

Tasslehoff frowned. “Make fun if you like, Sturm, but my Uncle Trapspringer says-”

Sturm clapped his hands to his ears and snorted. “Not an Uncle Trapspringer story!”

Derek's head jerked around. “Hush!” he snarled. Suddenly his face contorted in surprise.
“Whoa!” The tunnel had ended abruptly in a deep, dark chasm! One foot over the edge, Derek
swung his arms wildly to keep from sliding over entirely.

Instinctively, Laurana reached for his out-flung arm, and Sturm

grabbed her. Together they pulled the struggling knight back from the edge. Wheezing and
panting, he collapsed momentarily in a heap. Then, remembering himself, he struggled to
his feet, brush- ing off the helping hands.

“Great! Now where do we go?” he demanded.

Laurana frowned. “I don't see any reason-or way-to cross the chasm. There's nothing but an
icy wall on the other side. I guess we'll have to retrace our steps and continue up the
cliff face after all,” she finished wearily.

“Not necessarily!” sang out Tasslehoff, whom I must confess I'd forgotten. He was on his
knees, tapping on the left wall with his knuckles. Suddenly he looked up at Elistan,
reaching for the mace hanging from the cleric's belt. “May I borrow this?” he asked
politely. Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the mace and smashed it into the icy
wall, sending glassy shards flying about the tunnel.

“Tasslehoff, what on Krynn are you doing?” Laurana demanded, reaching out to prevent his
next swing. She stopped abrubtly as the kender's blows revealed a hole into another area.
Before she could say more, Tasslehoff hopped through the jagged opening.

“Tas, wait!” she cried, hurrying after him.

“Oh, no,” Sturm muttered, as if this scene were nothing new to him. Hitching up his gear,
he followed the golden-haired elf. The rest of us hastily followed.

Stepping through the opening, I found the others in a vast room formed of rough-hewn stone
blocks. In one corner was stacked a pile of dried peat, ready for burning. In another were
huge wooden barrels in neat rows. Weapons and tools hung from racks on the walls. A
dilapidated door swung from one hinge on the wall opposite me. We seemed to be in some
sort of storeroom-but for whom? A shiver of apprehension raised the hair on my scalp.

“I knew we were overlooking something!” Tasslehoff cried, scurrying about the room in
excitement.

Elistan strode up to the kender, his palm outstretched. “Yes, you were. . . . My mace,
please,” he reminded Tas.

“Oh, this?” Tas asked, pulling the mace from his pack, where he'd obviously placed it for
safe-keeping. “Yes, well, I was talking about something else. Listen.”

The kender's voice hushed, the room became strangely, uncomfortably quiet. Tasslehoff
crept slowly toward the center, cocking his head from side to side. As if frozen, we all
stood watching him. “Do you hear it, Sturm?” he asked softly. "It sounds

like . . . like clicking, or scratching. Raggart?" All eyes turned to me as if I should
somehow know the source

of the strange noise. I reached up to pull down my fur hood so that I could hear better,
when Derek bellowed in sudden fury, his sword flashing from its sheath. Before any of us
had time to comprehend what was happening, the room exploded into snarling, screaming
chaos. Minotaurs, creatures with the bodies of men and the heads of bulls, and thanoi,
another bizarre mix of human and walrus, burst through the doorway and fell on the two
knights and the kender.

Surprised, Sturm had barely time enough to draw his weapon from under his furs. Surging
forward with Derek, he strove to push the gruesome creatures back to the door. But the
thanoi, hungry for the blood of intruders, were crazed. Swinging wildly with axes and
clubs, they forced the two knights back into the center of the room.

My eye caught sight of Laurana's flaxen hair as she drew her blade and lunged forward to
join the attack. The sight of the plucky fighter made me realize I'd done nothing to help.
But what could I-a tired old man-do?

Tormented with indecision, I saw the kender disappear among the rows of barrels. It wasn't
like him to hide from something this exciting. What was he up to? I wondered.

Suddenly, a blood-thirsty roaring filled my ears. Jerking my head around, I saw a minotaur
press past the warriors, bent for Elistan and me. But the creature's face changed from
delight to surprise as he tripped and fell at my feet for no apparent reason. From among
the barrels I heard a childish giggle, and the reason became clear. “Now!” shouted the
kender, and I guess he was talking to me, for suddenly I knew what to do.

First, I raised my staff and bashed the minotaur over the head with it as hard as I could.
Then I dashed over to the first row of barrels and tugged on the rim of one of the heavy
things until whatever was inside sloshed, swaying the barrel ever so slightly.

“Elistan, help me!” I called to the cleric, who stood on the edge of the battle, mumbling
prayers. Seeing my intention, he drew his hands from his cuffs and pulled on the rim of
the barrel with me, until, with a ground-jarring thump, the cask dropped onto its rounded
side on the floor. Wordlessly, we stepped back and ran at the barrel full-tilt, sending it
rolling like a loosened boulder at the prone minotaur.

Groggy from his fall and my bashing, the creature looked up just in time to see a
spiraling wooden barrel about to smash into the tips of his horns. Then the minotaur's
eyes saw no more,

squashed as they were by the mammoth barrel. But my triumph was shortlived as I quickly
realized my error.

The barrel was still rolling, headed straight for Laurana, Sturm, and Derek. Still engaged
with thanoi and minotaurs in the center of the room, they did not see their danger. I
panicked and yelled to the only one who faced me.

“Sturm!”

The knight's blood-spattered face jerked up, his eyes widened slightly. Without missing a
beat, he slashed viciously at the thanoi before him. Leaning to his right, he shoved Derek
away from the minotaur he fought, then bowled Laurana over to his left, not a second ahead
of the swiftly turning barrel. It knocked the remaining minotaur and thanoi to the floor,
then the barrel stopped, pinning or squashing whatever happened to get in its way.

Unfortunately, that included Derek's foot. Surprised by Sturm's shove, the stubborn knight
had tried to stand his ground, apparently slipped in a pool of blood, and crashed to the
floor, just as the barrel arrived. Though obviously in great pain, the knight hacked at
the furry thanoi fingers that desperately groped at him from under the barrel.

Raising her sword, Laurana strode forward and ended the lives of the struggling creatures,
as Sturm hoisted the end of the barrel pinning Derek's foot.

“This is your fault, Brightblade,” Derek growled, nearly spitting on Sturm's proffered
hands. He struggled to stand alone, though the effort cost him. Sturm caught the Knight of
Solamnia by the armpits as he slumped toward the floor.

As the cleric of my tribe, it was my duty to heal, as best I could, the wounds of my
people. I rushed to Derek's side to examine his foot. Even with his boot on, I could see
that it was twisted unnaturally. Gently slipping the furry glove off, my hand touched the
jagged edge of a bone. Blood flowed freely from the purple, swollen wound. Swallowing a
gasp of revulsion, I searched my mind for an answer. But I had none. I hadn't the power to
heal this man.

Derek, thankfully, had passed out from the pain. I gently maneuvered the bone back to what
I thought was its intended position, then let Derek's foot slide from my hand to rest on
the cold ground. Looking up suddenly, I found Sturm's eyes on me.

“Great job, Raggart,” he said, smiling warmly. “Your trick with the barrel was an
excellent idea.”

My mouth dropped in shock. How could he say that? Not only had I crushed Derek's foot, but
I'd given Sturm's enemy more

cause to hate him. Derek would never forgive Sturm for my mistake! I couldn't bare the
shame anymore. I spun around to flee, but a firm hand gripped my shoulder.

“Do not blame yourself, Raggart.” Elistan's soothing voice enveloped me. “Sturm is right.
Your quick thinking saved our lives-including Derek's.” He knelt down next to the
unconscious knight and laid a hand to his forehead.

Though his words were intended to reassure me, they only increased my shame. I hung my
head and turned away, my face burning. No matter what anyone said, I knew that my
thoughtless, though well-intended action had caused Derek's injury. Not only had I caused
it, I couldn't even cure him! Some cleric I was!

“Laurana, Sturm!” the kender squealed. I'd forgotten all about him again. “I think I know
where the orb is!”

“Tasslehoff Burrfoot, what have you been up to?” Laurana demanded sternly. “You haven't
been off exploring by yourself, have you?”

“Well, not exactly.” The kender looked sheepish. “I thought I saw one of those
walrus-looking men running out the door, so I thought I'd better find out what mischief he
was up to. When I realized I'd lost sight of him, I looked up and found myself in a
library-here in this frozen castle!” His face was flushed with barely contained
excitement. Though I said nothing, I noticed that his pack had new bulges.

“That does it,” Laurana said firmly. “Our battle here will likely draw more attention.
Let's get moving.” She brushed a tangle of hair from her face. “Will Derek be able to
travel, or must we carry him?”

“I will carry myself!” Derek growled. To my surprise, he pushed past Elistan to pull
himself to his feet. “Never let it be said that Derek Crownguard slowed anyone down!”

“No one would ever accuse you of that,” Laurana muttered, the double edge in her words
lost to Derek. “Let's go find this library of Tas's.”

Gingerly, Derek placed his weight on his foot. I waited for him to crumble like softened
snow. But as he headed for the door, a slight limp was the only indication that he'd hurt
his foot. Having seen the extent of his wound, I was stunned! Could sheer force of will
allow Derek to walk on the bloody stump I had just examined?

What startled me almost as much was that no one else was surprised. I was about to demand
an explanation when Elistan caught my eye. That serene, half-smile lit his face as

he winked at me knowingly. My mind balked at the only possibility. Could it be true? . . .
Elistan . . .?

“Come on, Raggart!” Tasslehoff's high-pitched voice prodded me. Shaking my head, I looked
around the storeroom to find I was alone with dead minotaurs and thanoi. Everyone waited
for me at the doorway at the far side of the room. I'd think about Elistan and Derek's
foot later, I told myself as I hurried to join them.

Sturm poked his head out the door and peered about for signs of life. With a jerk of his
head, he signaled us to follow him into the area beyond.

We stepped into what must have been the central courtyard of a once-beautiful castle. Five
or more doors led off in a semi-circle to the right, and three more curved around to our
left. The courtyard was otherwise empty, save for a massive fountain shaped of
water-spurting dragons. The fountain immediately struck me as strange- Why hadn't it
frozen?

“Magical,” Elistan said abruptly, as if reading my thoughts. “The water has curative
properties.”

But instead of thrilling me, for I had many aches and pains a few swallows might cure,
Elistan's prediction made me apprehensive. Someone or something very magical and
intelligent was at work in Icewall Castle.

“The library's over here!” Tasslehoff whispered loudly, slipping off to one of the rooms
to our left. “There was a trap on this door,” he added proudly, his hand on the knob, “but
I fixed it.” He disappeared through the opening, only to thrust his head back out again.
“By the way,” he chimed, pointing to a spot before the door, “don't step on this big, flat
stone.”