Kendermore

by Mary Kirchoff

  The room where he found himself was obviously someone’s study. Light streamed in through leaded windows in the ceiling. The circular, outside wall was lined with books, except for a few open spaces where pictures had fallen to the floor. A heavy desk and carved chair did not nearly fill the rest of the room.

  The footprints Tas had been following now scattered through the room. Picking out the largest set, he traced them, one step at a time, along a winding course to one of the bookshelves. Just above eye level was an empty spot on the shelf. “Someone’s been taking down books,” Tas said to himself.

  The footprints changed course suddenly. Tas noticed an odd thing. All three sets of footprints converged on a bare section of wall, then vanished. The kender paused for a moment, lost in thought. With a sudden thrill he realized that among all the footprints ascending the stairs, both new and old, he had not seen a single print going back down. He strode over to the wall and studied the tracks there until he was satisfied that they did, in fact, end at the wall. Whoever came up here, he thought, went out right here.

  “There must be a secret door!” he cried aloud.

  Tas groped across the cobweb-covered surface, searching for a hidden trigger or latch to open the door. He prodded and wiggled the bricks, twisted them and tapped them with the handle of the butter knife. Nothing happened. After several fruitless minutes, he dusted off his hands and decided to try a different tack.

  “Perhaps the trigger isn’t here at all,” he told himself, “but somewhere else in the room.” He scanned the room. The missing book? Not very likely. If the book was the trigger, it would need to be attached to something and could not be taken from the shelf.

  It took several minutes before Tas’s experienced eyes picked out the lever behind the desk. He gave it a quick flip and looked toward the wall. Already each of the bricks was outlined with a bright green glow and mist was pouring through the cracks. Colors swirled across the floor, up the walls, and around Tas’s ankles and knees. Then the wall disappeared completely, replaced by a pulsing, flashing, pearl-colored pane. The mist roiled inside the pane and poured out the edges, blanketing the walls and ceiling. Tas’s heart thudded against his ribs. This was no ordinary secret door! This was magic, and it could lead anywhere! Tas took two quick steps toward the portal but was stopped by a voice from the stairwell.

  “You found it! I knew you’d be good for something!” Tas turned and saw Denzil, framed by the doorway and the swirling mist. The pulsing green and yellow light of the portal made the half-orc’s harsh features even more terrible and cast shifting shadows across his frame.

  “Stay right where you are, ken-dirt,” Denzil warned. “The treasure of this tower must lie through that portal and whatever it is, it’s mine. But before I claim it, I have unfinished business with your bones.”

  The snarling assassin advanced across the room toward Tas. Fully aware that he was no match for the half-orc, the kender took the only other option open to him. He dove for the portal.

  And almost made it.

  Chapter 22

  A rodent—a large rat—scurried across the burn-scarred, debris-strewn floor. Stealing from shadow to shadow, the rodent knew it risked its life. Each time it moved, it glanced toward the far end of the room, toward the cracked and crumbling throne carved from a single block of volcanic stone, the throne once used by the Kingpriest of Istar, which now resided in the dark, evil Abyss. Even after centuries, the fires still flickered faintly within the throne, casting their red glow against the pocked surface.

  The rodent feared that throne, for on it sat, in her five-headed chromatic dragon form, the Dark Queen, She of Many Faces, Mistress of Evil, and one of the three creators of the universe, along with Paladine, the God of Good, and Gilean, the neutral god who kept the balance. If a being of such evil power should notice the rodent, the best it could hope for would be death, sudden and final.

  But the Dark Queen was certainly aware of the rodent—nothing happened in her chamber without her knowledge and permission—but something else was far more interesting than the fate of a semi-intelligent scavenger. The Dark Queen was occupied with other thoughts.

  On the world known as Krynn, on the continent of Ansalon, just south of the Blood Sea, near the once-powerful city of Istar, a magical gate was opening.

  An intrigued rumbling escaped the Dark Queen’s five reptilian throats as she relished the awareness of the gate. Writhing, two of her heads spit fire in delicious anticipation, scorching the tail of the rodent. This gate was very special, very powerful. It resided in a Tower of High Sorcery, and joined that tower to a pocket dimension of inestimable age. The Dark Queen craved the power of that gate. She wanted to slip through it and reenter the Prime Material Plane, which she had been driven and forbidden from entering these many human centuries past. But Takhisis had no notion or need for time; hours to her were as centuries to the inhabitants of Krynn. Thus, though Huma, that detestable Knight of Solamnia who had led the fight to banish her, had been dead in the grave for centuries, the wound of her embarrassing defeat was still as fresh in her mind as if it had occurred just yesterday.

  Takhisis’s many tongues lashed out between her razor-sharp teeth as she tasted the thought of final victory. She decided its flavor was even better than the flesh of her enemies.

  It was an added bonus, of course, that this Tower of High Sorcery had libraries and laboratories filled with secrets that might be useful to her in the war she intended to wage once she secured her return to the Prime Material.

  Ages ago, she had learned the secret of the pocket dimension. She had found a ‘back door’ into the Prime Material Plane. The door’s use was limited, and pointless unless the gate was opened. Now, every time the gate was activated, the secret signs and wards she had placed there alerted her to its use. But it always stayed open for such a horribly short time, and her preparations consumed time. But she knew, as certainly as she loathed Huma, that at some point, the gate would open and remain so long enough for her to intervene.

  She knew this and had been patient and ever-watchful, and now her chance had come to pass.

  * * * * *

  With astounding speed, Denzil’s powerful legs drove him across the chamber at the top of the tower. Snarling, the half-orc took a swipe at the kender, who was lunging for the gateway, and managed to snag the shoulder strap of Tas’s pouch. Intercepted in midair, Tasslehoff crashed to the ground.

  Shaking off his surprise, Tas quickly realized that he was being dragged back across the dusty floor by the leather thong.

  Reaching up desperately, Tas’s fingers closed around the thong and he gave a powerful tug. The leather strap broke at a seam. Before Denzil could comprehend what had happened, Tas was on his hands and knees and was scrambling toward the mist-shrouded opening. His arms, head, and shoulders disappeared in the swirling mist.

  To Denzil, it looked as if the top half of the kender’s body had been neatly sliced off, his legs protruding from a wall of pearl. He grabbed Tasslehoff’s kicking heels and began to tug.

  The body did not budge. But neither did it disappear. The blue-covered legs flailed wildly and twisted from side to side, but the torso did not emerge from the wall one bit. Denzil tightened his grip and pulled again, hard this time. Tas’s body slid toward him several inches, still thrashing.

  Encouraged, the half-orc looked around for something to help him gain purchase. He spotted the bookcases on either side of the opening and, still holding fast to the kender’s legs, Denzil braced his feet against the bookcases.

  * * * * *

  Swirls of color and texture engulfed Tasslehoff, spinning around him and turning him end-over-end. His lungs swelled up as if something were alive inside them, tingling and tickling him pitilessly. He could see nothing but spiraling clouds of white and emerald and lavender. They reminded him of cotton candy. How pretty, he thought.

  He felt at once chilled to the bone by the fog, and moist and sweaty from humidity and exertion. Hot, cold, h
ot, cold! He shivered as if in a fever, his teeth chattering.

  Abruptly he stopped spinning and now he began floating, though he still couldn’t tell which way was up. He was no longer capable of struggling or moving himself at all. He still felt as if he were being stretched until he would rip into pieces. His feet and his head felt as if they were miles apart.

  Suddenly, he burst through a curtain of rainbows and landed face down in a pile of pointy, deliciously tart-smelling gravel. Sputtering and scrambling to get back on his feet, he learned two odd and intriguing things.

  First, spitting what he thought were rocks from his mouth, he tasted lemon and realized that he had not landed in gravel, but in a mound of hard, lemon-flavored candies. The confections skittered like marbles under his hands.

  Second, he could not stand up. Something was still trying to pull him apart, holding his legs and yanking on them ferociously. Tasslehoff twisted around to see what the problem was and was confronted not by an antagonist, but by a swirling, silvery pane of light that swallowed the lower two-thirds of his body.

  Tas tried crawling forward, but he was stuck fast. Then he felt a sharp tug and slid backward an inch or two. Tasslehoff’s heart constricted uncharacteristically.

  Denzil is still trying to drag me back from wherever I’m at! Tas realized. The kender redoubled his effort to escape. He looked about for anything to grab and hold onto that might give him leverage.

  Meanwhile, Tasslehoff’s arrival in Gelfigburg had not gone unnoticed. The young kender looked up to see three of the stoutest beings—they looked like orbs with arms and legs attached—waddle over to where he lay on the ground, struggling for a handhold. The eldest of the two, wearing a sacklike smock over his round body, introduced himself.

  “Good day, friend! Harkul Gelfig’s the name.” He extended his pudgy hand. “It’s always nice to see a new face around here. You’ll have to tell us your name so we can put it on the cake.”

  “Why are you lying in the lemon candies like that?” asked the second.

  “And where’s your other half?” demanded a third kender.

  Tas reached frantically for Gelfig’s outstretched hand. The kender shook Tasslehoff’s hand and released it before Tas could explain his desperate situation. Struck dumb for the first time in his life, Tas held up his hand again in a silent plea for help.

  But the onlookers simply continued to gape at him, smiling.

  Tas looked around them anxiously, taking in his surroundings for the first time. His mouth dropped open and he nearly lost his tenuous grip at the sight of taffy trees, peppermint fences, gingerbread homes with graham-cracker shutters and shingles of chocolate shavings.

  Just then, Tas felt another mighty pull on his legs; one more inch of his torso disappeared back into the portal. Waving his arms frantically, he finally managed to cry, “Help me, please! Someone who wants to kill me is trying to drag me through this doorway! Please hurry and grab on!”

  What intrigue! the three kender thought. They took hold of Tasslehoff’s arms but, try as they might, they could not pull him free of the wall. Somewhat to Tas’s relief, he did stop sliding backward, though he could still feel Denzil tugging and yanking on his legs.

  The commotion quickly attracted a crowd. Among the gathering onlookers was Trapspringer Furrfoot, who recognized his errant nephew at once.

  “Tasslehoff!” he shouted, pushing his way to the front of the throng. “Is that you, you young delinquent? What on Krynn are you doing in Gelfigburg, when you’re supposed to be in Kendermore getting married?”

  “Uncle Trapspringer!” his nephew cried in surprise. Despite his current danger, the kender couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his favorite uncle. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Actually, I didn’t expect to be here myself, wherever here is. Say, I’m sorry about your having to go to prison on my account.”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do, young kender,” Trapspringer said sternly, shaking an accusing finger at his nephew. He paused and frowned at Tasslehoff’s prone half-form. “Stand up when I’m speaking to you!”

  Tasslehoff gritted his teeth against another tug. “I can’t, Uncle. And I can’t explain it all now,” he grunted, “but I seem to be stuck in this portal. It would help me immeasurably if you would pull me through.”

  “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? Always the one to find trouble, weren’t you?” Trapspringer clucked his tongue, then chuckled.

  Denzil gave Tasslehoff’s legs yet another pull, forcing Tas to snarl impatiently, “Not now, Uncle!”

  Trapspringer looked momentarily befuddled. “Yes, well, I suppose you’re right. All of Kendermore has been searching for you these two months past, and they’d hang me if I let you slip through my hands now. Grab on, everyone!” he hollered.

  Dozens of kender trudged forward, wrapping their hands and arms around Tas’s limbs and torso, around each other, and around other, presumably immobile, features of the landscape. Soon, at least a dozen kender were pulling, straining, and sweating against some portion of Tas’s upper body.

  * * * * *

  Denzil propped both feet against the bookcases on either side of the portal. He looped his belt around Tasslehoff’s ankles and encircled his own wrist four times with the remaining length of leather. Grasping his bound wrist with his free hand, he took a huge breath and used the strength of his braced legs to heave with all his might. The kender’s body slipped back at least three inches.

  “You’re mine, kender,” laughed Denzil, flexing his fingers in preparation for one last pull.

  * * * * *

  Suddenly, the air in Gelfigburg filled with flying bits and shards of hard candies and fine sugar and cinnamon dust. Sneezing, many of the kender pulling on Tasslehoff paused to rub their eyes and clear their vision.

  Just then, a bright purple whirlwind appeared nearby on Gelfig’s front lawn, twisting and writhing and tearing up great hunks of the carefully landscaped terrace. The kender watched in fascination as the storm tore apart their homes and whipped sharp, stinging particles of candy wreckage into their faces.

  Just then Damaris emerged from Gelfig’s house, munching on part of a sucker bush. “What’s going on?” she demanded, licking her fingers with great enjoyment. Damaris was fitting right into Gelfigburg. She spotted Trapspringer at the wall, tugging on a pair of arms. “What are you doing with those arms?” Without waiting for an answer, she elbowed Harkul Gelfig out of the way and grabbed onto Trapspringer’s waist. “Whatever you’re doing, it looks like fun!”

  “This is certainly shaping up into a busy day,” Gelfig said, grunting as his stubby fingers closed around Damaris’s tiny waist. “You got here just in time before you starved, girlie.”

  Then, with no warning but a loud “pop,” Tasslehoff disappeared back through the portal. Along with him went his Uncle Trapspringer, Damaris Metwinger, Harkul Gelfig and the two other kender who’d witnessed Tasslehoff’s arrival in Gelfigburg, and several other bystanders who had joined in the tug-of-war. Those left at the new front of the kender chain were pulled partway through the foggy curtain and left in much the same predicament as Tas.

  * * * * *

  Summoning all his considerable strength, Denzil straightened his back, bore down, and hauled on the leather belt attached to the kender. Muscles and veins stood out in his neck, and beads of sweat broke out and ran down his forehead and temples. Gods, but this kender was surprisingly strong! thought the half-orc. He’d obviously underestimated him, and the kender, in fact, seemed to be getting stronger still.

  “There you are!”

  Denzil nearly lost his grip in surprise. Struggling to look over his shoulder, he saw Vinsint the ogre from below stomping toward him.

  “You’re not going to get away this time!” Vinsint crowed, looping one of his long arms around Denzil’s bent waist.

  “Ooofff!”

  Vinsint gave a great yank that almost cut the half-orc in two.

  Abruptl
y and without warning, the resistance on the strap tied to the kender disappeared. Denzil tumbled heels-over-head across the floor, bowling over the surprised ogre. The half-orc slammed into the hard, unyielding desk. In a heartbeat, both Denzil and Vinsint were stampeded by an enormous, wriggling weight.

  Forcing his eyes open again, Denzil saw that the room, as if by magic, was filling with stumbling, obese kender. They tumbled forward and crashed into the walls and bookcases, into the desk and Denzil and Vinsint. And more were pouring through the portal every second!

  * * * * *

  “A way out! We’ve found a way out!”

  The cry rose from every kender’s throat moments after Tasslehoff and Trapspringer slid back through the portal. Slipping over lemon drops, they began diving headlong into the swirling mist, dragging friends and loved ones along.

  As they fled, the purple cyclone grew in intensity. The eddies at its top coalesced and became forms, which gradually took on the shape of a woman’s face, severe but beautiful. The Dark Queen’s cruel, dark eyes surveyed the scene of panic and destruction, but fixed on the gate. The last kender had barely fled into it when the cyclone gathered up its tails, coiled almost like a spring, and streaked into the doorway between dimensions.

  Chapter 23

  “We’re free! We’re free!” squealed the multitude of kender, rampaging through the opened portal and flooding into the chamber at the top of the ruined Tower of High Sorcery. In minutes, the room was nearly bursting with obese refugees from Harkul Gelfig’s candy dimension.

  The ogre stood with his long arms crossed expectantly as he surveyed the tiny room. “So this is where you went,” he growled at Tasslehoff, who was pushed up against the desk at the far side of the room, next to his uncle. “And who are all these other kender?” he demanded. He peered closely at Trapspringer. “Wait a minute, I remember you! Weren’t you here several days ago? I was very cross with you when I found you’d run away.” He looked disparagingly at Damaris and Phineas. “I see Nosy and Nutsy are still with you.”