“Be gone!” Thwack!
“But, ma’am, I’m only—”
“Be gone with you!” Thwack, thwack!
“It’s just that I’ve never seen—”
“We don’t like kender!” Thwack, thwack, slam—the slam being where the woman shoved him out the door and slammed it shut on him.
Her shrieks roused the populace. Once in the street, Tas was set upon by other shopkeepers wielding various instruments of destruction, from brooms to shovels to clubs and, in the case of the butcher, a dead chicken.
Tas was saved from the onslaught by the self-same gate guard, who had been on his way home to dinner when he heard the commotion. He picked up the kender by the seat of his britches and the collar of his shirt, hauled him to the front gate, and tossed him headlong out into the dusty road.
“No kender!” the guard bellowed.
Tasslehoff stood up, brushed himself off, wiped the dead chicken juice out of his eyes, and yelled, “I didn’t want to see your stupid pigeons fall anyway!”
He was walking along the road, looking at this and that and everything and nothing, and thinking that this was probably the worst day of his life, when his sharp kender eyes saw, off in the distance, what appeared to be a cave.
Caves draw kender like flames draw moths. The thought that there might be something living in the cave, or that there might be treasure in the cave, or both together, is irresistible to kender. Tas immediately turned his footsteps in that direction.
He discovered right off that he wasn’t the first person to do this. He came upon a trail scored with deep wagon ruts. The trail was old and unused, for weeds were growing in the wagon ruts. But Tas could see that heavily laden wagons had traveled back and forth across it for some time. The kender was excited. Not only was this a cave, it was a mine!
He imagined those wagons laden with gold or silver or maybe even iron ore to be turned into steel, then the most valuable commodity on Krynn. No wonder the town of Pigeon Falls had appeared to be so prosperous.
He continued following the trail, speculating on what might have happened to end the mining. Perhaps there had been a collapse or the mine had run out of ore, or…
And then there was the answer right in front of him on a wooden sign on a stake that had been hammered into the ground.
WARNING!
MINE CLOSED!
HERE BE DRAGONS!
“How exciting!” exclaimed Tasslehoff Burrfoot. His bad day had turned good. “This, is definitely better than pigeons.”
He kept going, picking up his pace.
Tasslehoff passed by several more signs on his way to the cave, all of them announcing that here be dragons. This was, of course, meant as a warning to stay away and would have, been taken as such by most people, but kender are not most people. Besides being extremely curious, kender are utterly fearless—a volatile combination, as anyone who has ever adventured with a kender (and managed to survive) will tell you.
Not that kender are foolhardy. Tasslehoff did not think of himself as jauntily walking into the jaws (literally) of death. His friend, Tanis Half-Elven, was always encouraging Tas to consider if a proposed action by the kender was “conducive to long life”. Tas did consider this, though he generally ended up doing what he wanted to anyway.
On this occasion, his thinking went something along these lines: “Yes, there’s a dragon, and dragons are extremely dangerous and not at all conducive to long life, but the dragon is probably out. I’ll just look over his treasure horde a bit and see if I come across anything interesting.” Or: “The dragon will probably be sleeping. They do sleep a lot, you know. I’ll just look over his treasure horde a bit and see if I come across anything interesting.”
There was always the possibility that the dragon might be in and he might be awake, but Tas considered the odds of that pretty low (one in three). And if the dragon was there and he was awake and in a bad mood and decided to eat the kender, well, there had never yet been a kender who died peacefully in his bed of old age. Tasslehoff had no intention of being the first.
As stated, Tas was not foolhardy. Arriving at the mouth of the cave, he did not immediately charge inside. He stopped to look about for signs of recent dragon activity—scales sparkling in the dirt, enormous footprints scorch marks on the walls, etc. He saw nothing. He cocked an ear and listened for sounds of a dragon. Dragons always had stentorian breathing (whatever a stentorian was; Tas thought it might be some sort of whistle). He listened for sounds of a large creature shuffling about, stomping its feet, lashing its tail. He heard nothing. He sniffed the air for the scent of brimstone, but he didn’t smell anything, either.
“I wonder if he moved?” Tasslehoff asked himself, disappointed. It seemed his bad day was going to continue. Everyone knew that when a dragon moved, he took his treasure with him.
The mouth of the cave was large and opened into an even larger chamber, so large that, peering up, Tas could not see the ceiling. Dusk was making the cave dusky and, the next thing Tas knew, a swarm of bats flew down around him, wheeling and dodging, flying off to find dinner. Tas ducked his head to keep the bats from mussing his topknot and thought glumly that here was another sign that the dragon had departed. No self-respecting dragon shares his cave with bats.
Tas almost turned back, but then decided that since he’d come all this way, he might as well explore a bit. After all, he could possibly come across the odd jewel-encrusted chalice the dragon had accidentally left behind. Or there might be a bugbear living here. While not as good as a dragon, a bugbear was better than nothing.
Tas continued on and his perseverance was rewarded. He made a wonderful discovery. Several very fine brass lanterns had been left at the opening of a mining shaft. The lanterns were neatly arranged on the cavern floor and they had apparently been here awhile, for they were covered with dust and bat droppings. Tas, who had neglected to bring a torch, was pleased. He did wonder, as he picked up one of the lanterns and examined it, who could have left such expensive lanterns here and why they hadn’t come back to retrieve them. The most obvious answer was that the owners had all died horribly in the mine, but Tas chose to take the optimistic view that they had been so loaded up with treasure they had no room in their wagon.
A rummage through several pouches produced not one tinderbox, but three. He also found several candles. He placed one in the lantern and had it lighted in no time. Lantern in hand, he continued on his way down the mine shaft.
The shaft sloped downhill at a steep angle. He occasionally passed carts that had once been loaded with ore, but which were now loaded with bat droppings.
He kept walking.
The shaft went on a for a long way without ever seeming to get to where it was going, and he had to admit that it did not appear to be leading to a dragon or even a bugbear. Tas stopped every so often to look and listen and sniff and smell nothing. He was starting to grow discouraged and bored and was rummaging in his pouch for something to eat, when his light glinted off metal.
Tas found a piece of armor—a greave or some such thing—that had been discarded, probably due to a broken strap. The armor was covered in dust. Tas picked it up and brushed it off. Like the lanterns, the piece of armor was of fine quality. Tas stuffed it in one of his pouches and kept going. Here was a puzzle.
Armor meant knights. Knights traipsing about an abandoned mine meant they were likely hunting the dragon. But the dragon-hunting knights had apparently not slain the dragon, otherwise they would have removed the signs warning HERE BE DRAGONS. (Or at least put up a sign that said HERE NOT BE DRAGONS.) The logical conclusion was that the dragon had been the winner. But, in that case, where was the dragon? Hence, the puzzle.
Tas continued going down the mine shaft. The candle burned so low he had to replace it, and still he kept going. Then, about half way through the next candle, the shaft made a sharp turn and suddenly deposited Tasslehoff in a huge chamber that was amazingly (considering it was a couple of miles underground) brightly l
it.
Tasslehoff almost dropped his lantern and stared, astonished. He was more astonished than he’d ever been in his life and that was saying something, considering that he’d traveled back in time with Caramon, and visited the Abyss with the Dark Queen and taken a flying citadel out for a spin, and done a lot of other truly astonishing things. He’d never seen anything like this, however.
The floor of the chamber was covered with knights—all of them dead. Tas did not have to look twice to see they were dead, for the knights were nothing but steel and bone. Some of the dead knights had lances or spears in their bony hands. Others had swords. Tas didn’t know what had killed them, but he figured it was probably the dragon—the large blue dragon that was glaring down on him from high up above him.
The very fierce large blue dragon.
“Hullo, up there,” said Tasslehoff and he gave a little gulp. He wasn’t afraid, mind you. Just startled.
The dragon didn’t answer. Which was rude. Even for a dragon.
Tas stared up at it and realized suddenly that it was a very fierce looking blue dragon who wasn’t moving. His blue wings were outspread and his jaws open so that his fangs and sharp teeth gleamed in the light. His enormous claws were flexed, ready to rip apart his foe. His blue scales glinted as he was about to dive. But he wasn’t diving or biting or ripping. The dragon was just hanging there in mid air, in mid snarl, glaring down at Tasslehoff with bright gleaming eyes. Directly underneath the dragon was the dragon’s treasure, all in a huge mound on the floor, glittering and shining and sparkling in the light.
“I wonder how he does that,” Tasslehoff said, craning his neck to view the dragon.
He waited several moments to see if the dragon would leap or flap or dive or blast lightning bolts at him or do something.
The dragon continued to just hang there, suspended, glaring at him.
Tasslehoff’s neck started to get a crick in it. He lowered his head and rubbed his neck, and right there before him was the answer to one of his questions—the source of the bright light.
A dead wizard.
The wizards corpse, clad in white robes that must have once been quite sumptuous, but which were now moth- and mouse-eaten (not to mention the blood stains), was propped up against a wall. In the dead hand was a staff and the bright light was beaming from a large crystal atop the staff.
Tasslehoff felt a tingling in his fingertips that spread to his hands and all the way up his arms and into his head. That magical staff with its magical light was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. Caramon’s twin brother Raistlin had owned a magical staff. Tasslehoff had always longed to examine Raistlin’s staff, but the wizard had threatened to turn him into a cricket and feed him to a frog if he’d so much as touched his pinky finger to it. And while being a cricket might be interesting, being fed to a frog didn’t hold much appeal, and so between that and the fact that Raistlin never let the staff out of his sight, Tas had never had a chance to study it.
Here was his opportunity.
Tasslehoff didn’t think this wizard would mind if he touched the staff, since the wizard was pretty much past the point of minding anything.
Ignoring the dragon’s treasure (after all, if you’ve seen one diamond the size of your fist, you’ve seen them all), Tas hurried over to look at the staff.
The light shining from the crystal was so bright that Tas had to squint to look at it. He reached out his hand, wrapped his fingers around the smooth wooden staff, and carefully and gently lifted it out of the wizards bony grasp.
At that moment, a great many things happened.
First, the light on top of the staff went out.
Second, there came an enormous crash as of something extremely heavy falling from a great height.
Third, he heard silence, followed by a pain-filled groan, followed by an angry snarl.
“Oops,” said Tasslehoff Burrfoot.
Now, those who have adventured in company with a kender will tell you that “oops” is the single most terrible word ever heard coming from a kender’s lips. (For many, it’s the last word they ever hear.) “Oops” means the kender has made a mistake. And though kender are very small people, they generally make very large mistakes.
This was one of them.
It did occur to Tasslehoff the moment he touched the staff that perhaps the staff’s magic was responsible for keeping the dragon suspended in mid-air and that by touching the staff he would disrupt the spell. Since he was touching the staff at the time, this notion came to him too late to do any good.
And, as it turned out, his notion was right. Touching the staff disrupted the spell and freed the dragon, who came crashing down to the ground, right on top of his treasure horde.
Tasslehoff thought fast.
“Oh, hullo, there!” he said cheerily, peering into the darkness and locating the dragon. “It’s me. Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Hero of the Lance.” He mentioned this in modest tones, then added quickly, “I saved you from the evil wizard who had put a spell on you. No need to thank me. I’ll just be going now. Good-bye!”
Tas’s lantern was by the opening of the chamber where he’d almost dropped it. Putting down the staff, so that the dragon wouldn’t mistake him for a wizard, Tasslehoff starting walking rapidly toward the exit.
An enormous blue-scaled paw slammed down on the floor right in front of him.
“Not so fast,” snarled the dragon.
Tas squinched shut his eyes, thinking he was going to be eaten. Then, figuring if he was going to be eaten by a dragon, that was a sight he wouldn’t want to miss, he opened his eyes again.
The dragon did not appear as though about to eat him. Instead, the dragon lowered his massive head until he was only a few feet from Tas and looked at him straight in the eye. The dragon’s own eyes glinted in the light of Tas’s lantern.
The dragon asked a most unexpected question.
“Um… do you know me?” The dragon winced, as though in pain.
“I beg your pardon?” said Tasslehoff, not sure if this was a trick question. Everyone knew that dragons sometimes asked trick questions that you had to answer correctly if you wanted to keep from being eaten. “I’m not sure exactly what you mean.”
“You said you saved me from a wizard,” the dragon continued gruffly. He sounded embarrassed. “That implies that you and I have some sort of relationship…”
Now the only relationship that came to Tas’s mind was that of “eater” and “eatee”, but he wisely did not mention this.
“I’m sorry,” said Tas. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Perhaps if you could explain it to me.”
As he was speaking, the kender tried to sidle his way around the enormous paw.
The dragon rumbled in his blue chest and shifted about uncomfortably on top of the pile of treasure. “It’s just that… I must have hit my head when I fell, because… it’s the damndest thing… but I can’t seem to recall my own name.”
“You can’t?” Tasslehoff asked, so amazed he came to a stop.
“No, nothing.” The dragon sounded glum. “And I’ve got a beastly headache. Do you happen to know… uh… my name?”
“George,” said Tasslehoff promptly. George had always been one of his favorite names and so few people were called George nowadays.
“George,” the dragon repeated. “Are you sure? George doesn’t seem the right sort of name for a dragon.”
“Oh.” Tas was disappointed. “You know you’re a dragon, do you?”
“Well, of course!” The dragon snapped. “I may have a large bump on my head, but I’m not an idiot. A gully dwarf could see that I’m a dragon!”
Tas had to admit that the wings, the tail, the fangs, and the blue scales did sort of give that away.
“And you are a kender,” the dragon continued. He added in a dour voice, “I seem to recall that as a rule I don’t like kender.”
“That was until you met me,” said Tasslehoff brightly. He had his plan all worked out now. “You see,
we’re partners. Partners in crime. We’re thieves.”
“Thieves?” the dragon repeated, astounded.
“Two of the greatest thieves Krynn has ever known,” said Tas, who was now enjoying himself. He sat down on at large chest of gold bars and made himself comfortable. “You and I are notorious throughout Ansalon. Why”—he waved his hand—“just look at the loot we’ve accumulated!”
“This is… ours?” The dragon was awed. He stared around at the golden plates and the chests of steel coins and the jeweled crowns and diadems and scepters covered with pearls and lots of other objects too fabulous and numerous to be described.
“Yes, all ours,” Tas replied proudly.
“I’m a thief,” the dragon said, mulling this over. “I pick locks and sneak into houses—”
“You’re the second-story man,” Tas explained. “You sneak into the windows on the second story.”
“I appear be rather large to do that,” the dragon countered.
“But that’s the very reason why! I’m too short to be the second-story man, so I’m the first-story man. I pick the locks on the front door. You’re tall, so you crawl in the windows. You’re ever so stealthy.”
“I am?” The dragon was skeptical. “Stealthy?”
“The most stealthy dragon in Krynn.”
The dragon appeared to think about this, but thinking evidently caused him pain, for he winced again. He glanced about at the dead knights. “So, what happened here? Looks like some sort of battle took place.”
“Oh, it was very exciting! We were down here in our cave, taking inventory, when we were rudely set upon by these knights and their wizard,” Tas said. “We fought valiantly, especially myself. Did I tell you I was a Hero of the Lance? Anyway, the wizard cast a spell on you that caused you to be suspended from the ceiling. I wrestled with him and managed to take away his staff, and I freed you and here we are. Now, as I was just on my way out, I can go fetch something for that headache of yours.”
Dragons- Worlds Afire Page 6
