“I told you so,” said Raistlin.
Caramon sighed deeply.
“What’s wrong with Sturm?” Tika asked, frightened. “Why is he talking like that?”
“The helm’s possessed him,” said Caramon. “He thinks he’s a dwarven prince who lived three hundred years ago. He’s dead set on going to Thorbardin.”
“The helm will not let him do anything else,” said Raistlin. “There is no reasoning with the enchantment.”
“What if we knocked him out, tied him up and dragged him?” Tika asked.
Caramon was horrified. “Tika, this is Sturm we’re talking about.”
“Well, apparently it isn’t,” Tika snapped. “It’s Prince Something-or-other.” She didn’t understand any of this, but she was understanding enough to see where this conversation was headed, and she didn’t like it. “Caramon Majere, our friends are in danger! We can’t just abandon them!”
“I know,” he replied unhappily. “I know.”
“I doubt if we could knock him out,” Raistlin observed. “The helm will act to protect him from harm. If we tried to attack him, he would fight us and someone would get hurt. Just because Sturm thinks he is a dwarf prince doesn’t mean he has lost the ability to use his sword.”
Tika interposed herself between Raistlin and Caramon. She turned her back on Raistlin, faced Caramon, her arms akimbo, her red curls quivering, her green eyes glittering.
“Thorbardin or no Thorbardin, prince or no prince, someone has to warn Riverwind and the others! You and I should go back, Caramon. Your brother and Sturm can travel to Thorbardin.”
“Yes, Caramon,” said Raistlin in dulcet tones. “Run along with your girlfriend. Leave me to make my way across the accursed Plains of Dergoth in company with a knight who thinks he’s a dwarf. We will both die, of course, and our mission will fail, but you two will undoubtedly enjoy yourselves.”
Tika was so furious she was tempted to turn around and slap Raistlin across his golden-skinned face. She knew that would only make matters worse, however. Digging her nails into her flesh to keep control of herself, she kept facing Caramon, forcing him to look at her, talk to her, think about her and what she was saying.
“Raistlin exaggerates,” Tika told him. “He’s trying to make you feel guilty. He’s a wizard! He has his magic, and like he said, the helm will protect Sturm and Sturm can still use his sword. You have to come with me!”
Caramon was in agony. His face had gone an ugly, blotchy red, mottled with pale white splotches. He looked at his twin and he looked at Tika, then he looked away from both of them.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Tasslehoff poked his head in the door. “You people are being awfully loud,” he said sternly. “I can hear you yelling clear down at the end of the corridor!”
Tika lapsed into irate silence. Caramon still didn’t say anything and Sturm began to pace, marching back and forth, impatient to be on his way.
“Whatever you decide, my brother,” said Raistlin.
Tika eyed Caramon. “Well?”
Caramon cast an uneasy glance at Tika.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “We’re all tired and hungry. It’s been a long day. Let’s go back into the tunnel, get something to eat, and talk about this in the morning.”
“You’re going with your brother,” said Tika in frozen tones.
“I don’t know,” Caramon said, hedging. “I haven’t decided. I need to think.”
Tika cast him a look—a green-eyed baleful look that skewered Caramon like a spear. She stalked angrily out of the room.
“Tika! Wait …” Caramon started after her.
“Where do you think you are going?” Raistlin demanded. “You must help me persuade the prince to stay. He will not be pleased at the delay.”
Caramon watched Tika walking down the corridor, heading back toward the library. She looked angry clear through to her bones.
“Tas, go with her,” Caramon said in low tones, so his brother couldn’t hear.
Tas obligingly ran off. Caramon could hear the two talking.
“Tika, what’s wrong?” Tas called out, racing to catch up with her.
“Caramon’s a blithering idiot,” Tika answered, choking on her rage, “and I hate him!”
“Caramon!” Raistlin said sharply. “I need you!”
Sighing deeply, Caramon went back to his twin.
After a great deal of talking and reasoning, Raistlin finally persuaded Prince Grallen to stay overnight in Skullcap. He told the prince he and his brother needed to rest before they could undertake the journey, and at last the Prince grudgingly agreed.
They returned to the library and from there went back into the tunnel. Caramon, fearing draconians might find them, wanted to shut the stone door. Raistlin pointed out that the draconians did not know about the tunnel and they should be safe enough here. Shutting the stone door would make a lot of noise. The only reason the draconians hadn’t heard the clamor the first time was due to the dragon’s roaring. Of course, after this, there was no argument. The door remained open.
They ate sparingly, for they had a long journey ahead of them—no matter which way they decided to go. Sturm ate what was given him then fell immediately into a deep slumber from which he could not be wakened.
Caramon was so unhappy he almost couldn’t eat. Tika wouldn’t talk to him or even look at him. She sat with her back against the stone wall, moodily chewing on dried meat. Raistlin ate very little, as always, then went to study his spells, ordering everyone to leave him in peace. He sat on the floor, his robes wrapped around him for warmth, bathed in the pale glow of the staff, his book propped on his knees.
Tasslehoff was fascinated by Sturm-turned-dwarf. The kender sat talking to the prince as long as the prince would talk to him, and when Sturm fell asleep, Tasslehoff continued to sit beside him, watching him.
“He even snores different from Sturm!” Tas reported, when Caramon walked over to see how the knight was faring.
Caramon glanced at his brother, then bent down to take hold of the helm.
“Are you going to yank it off? Here, let me help!” Tas offered, adding excitedly, “Can I put it on next? Can I be the prince?”
Caramon only grunted. He tugged on the helm, twisted it, and when that wouldn’t work, he gave it a thump to see if he could loosen it.
The helm was stuck fast.
“The only way you’re going to get it off is to take Sturm’s head with it,” Tas said. “I guess that’s not an option, huh?”
“No, it isn’t,” said Caramon.
“That’s too bad,” said Tas, disappointed but philosophical. “Oh, well, if I can’t be a dwarf, at least I have the fun of watching Sturm be a dwarf.”
“Fun!” Caramon snorted.
He slumped back against the wall, folded his arms over his chest, and settled himself comfortably on the floor. He had offered to take the first watch. Tika stood up, wiped off her hands, and started to walk toward him. Caramon groaned inwardly and braced himself.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?” he asked, rising nervously to his feet.
Tika glanced over her shoulder at Raistlin. Seeing him absorbed in his reading, she said softly, “You’ve made up your mind. You’re going with your brother, aren’t you?”
“Look, Tika, I’ve been thinking,” said Caramon. “What if we all go to Thorbardin tomorrow? We’ll meet up with Flint and Tanis, then Raistlin can stay with them, and you and I will go back to warn the others—”
“We’ll go back to bury them, you mean,” said Tika. She turned on her heel and returned to her place by the wall.
“She doesn’t understand,” Caramon said to himself. “She doesn’t understand how weak Raistlin is, how sick he gets. He needs me. I can’t leave him. The refugees will be all right. Riverwind is smart. He’ll know what to do.”
Raistlin, who had been only pretending to study his spells, smiled to himself in satisfaction when he saw Tika walk off. He shut th
e spellbook, put it back in his pack that his brother always carried for him, and feeling suddenly weary from the day’s exertions, he doused the light of his staff and went to sleep.
The night deepened. The darkness in the tunnel was impenetrable. Tika sat awake, listening to the various sounds: Sturm’s rumbling snore, Caramon’s shuffling, Tasslehoff’s twitches and whiffles, and other noises that were maybe rats and maybe not.
Tika knew what she had to do. She just had to find the courage to do it.
Caramon gave a jaw-cracking yawn. Fumbling about in the dark, he located Tas and shook him.
“I can’t stay awake any longer,” he said softly. “You take over.”
“Sure, Caramon,” said Tas sleepily. “Is it all right if I sit by Sturm? He might wake up and then I can ask the prince if I could wear the helm, just for a little while.”
Caramon muttered something to the effect that the prince and the helm could all go straight to the Abyss as far as he was concerned. Tika heard him walking over by her, and she swiftly lay down and closed her eyes, though he probably couldn’t see her in the darkness.
He called out her name.
“Tika,” he whispered loudly, hesitantly.
She didn’t answer.
“Tika, try to understand,” he said plaintively. “I have to go with Raist. He needs me.”
She kept quiet. Caramon heaved a huge sigh then, tripping over Sturm’s feet, he groped about until he found his blanket and lay down. When he was snoring, Tika rose to her feet. She found her pack and a torch and crept over to where Tasslehoff was keeping himself entertained by poking at Sturm with his hoopak in an effort to make him wake up.
“Tas,” said Tika in a smothered voice. “I need you to light this torch for me.”
Always glad to oblige, Tas fumbled about in one of his pouches. He produced flint and a tinderbox and soon the torch was burning brightly. Tika held her breath, waiting for the light to wake the sleepers. Raistlin muttered something and pulled his cowl over his eyes and rolled over. Sturm did not so much as twitch. Caramon, who had overslept through an ogre attack and kept on snoring.
Tika gave a little sigh. She hadn’t wanted to wake him, but a part of her was disappointed.
“Do you remember what I did with my sword?” she asked Tas.
The kender gave the matter some thought. “You took it off when we climbed up to the cat walk. I guess you forgot it in all the excitement. It’s probably still lying on that rock back in the fortress.”
Tika gave an inward sigh. No true warrior was likely to forgot where she’d put her sword.
“Should I go back to get it?” Tas asked eagerly.
“No, of course not!” Tika returned. “Who knows what awful things are lurking about there at night? Look what happened to Sturm.”
Now it was Tas who gave the inward sigh. Some people had all the luck. It wasn’t fair.
“Let me borrow Rabbitslayer then,” said Tika.
Tas gave his knife a fond pat and handed it over.
“Don’t lose it. Where are you going?” Tas asked.
“Back to camp, to warn the others.”
“I’ll come with you!” Tas jumped up.
“No.” Tika shook her red curls. “You’re on watch, remember? You can’t leave.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess you’re right,” Tas agreed, more easily than Tika had expected. She’d feared she would have an argument on this point.
“I’ll go if you really need me,” Tas told her. “But if you don’t, I’d rather stay here. I don’t want to miss out on Sturm being a dwarf. That’s something you just don’t see every day. I’ll wake up Caramon.”
“No, you won’t,” Tika said grimly. “He’ll try to stop me.”
She thrust Tas’s knife in her belt and slung her pack over shoulder.
“Are you really going by yourself?” Tas asked, impressed.
“Yes,” said Tika, “and don’t you say a word to anyone. Understand? Not until morning. Promise?”
“I promise,” Tas said glibly.
Tika knew Tas, and she also knew that promises were like lint to kender—easily brushed off. She eyed him sternly.
“You must swear to me by every object you have in your pouches,” she said. “May they all change into roaches and crawl off in the night if you break your vow.”
Tas’s eyes went round at this terrible prospect. “Do I have to?” he asked, squirming. “I already promised—” “Swear!” said Tika in a terrible voice. “I swear.” Tas gulped.
Fairly certain this fearful oath would be good for at least a few hours, long enough for her to get a good start, Tika walked off down the tunnel. She’d gone only a short distance, however, before she remembered something and turned around.
“Tas, give Caramon a message for me, will you?”
Tasslehoff nodded.
“Tell him I do understand. I do.”
“I’ll tell him. Bye, Tika,” Tas said, waving.
He had the feeling this wasn’t right, her going off by herself like this. He should wake up someone, but then he thought of all the wonderful things he had in his pouches changing into roaches and skittering off, and he didn’t know what to do. He sat back down beside Sturm and tried to come up with some way around the promise. The light Tika carried grew smaller and smaller in the distance until he couldn’t see it anymore, and he still hadn’t thought of any way out of his predicament.
He continued to think, and he thought so hard that hours passed without him noticing.
As it turns out, Raistlin was wrong when he stated that the draconians did not know about the tunnel. A baaz draconian, wandering into the library in search of loot, had discovered the secret tunnel. He was inside it when he heard the humans returning. They were on him before he realized it, and he was trapped. The baaz considered attacking them, for there were only five of them, and one was a sniveling runt of a kender and the other a female.
Seeing the female, the baaz had a better idea. He would kill the others, capture her alive, have his fun with her, then drag her back to his comrades and trade her for dwarf spirits. The baaz retreated a safe distance down the dark tunnel and spied on the group.
Two of them were warriors who wore their swords with assurance. One was a loathsome wizard carrying a staff with a light that hurt the baaz’s eyes. The baaz hated and distrusted all magic-users, and disappointed, he decided to leave the group alone, at least for the time being. Maybe one would fall asleep on watch, then he could sneak up on them and butcher them in their sleep.
The baaz was doomed to disappointment, it seemed, for the big warrior took first watch and he remained alert the entire time. The draconian was afraid to shift a claw for fear he’d hear him. The big man then woke up the kender and the draconian’s hopes rose, for even a draconian new to Krynn had come to know that kender, while delicious, are not to be trusted. He also knew that kender had sharp ears and sharper eyes, and this one appeared more alert than usual. The kender was also wide awake.
The draconian had settled himself for a long night of boredom when his luck took a sudden change. The human female lit a torch, had a short talk with the kender, then walked off down the tunnel by herself. She passed right in front of the draconian, who lurked in the shadows, doing his utmost to keep quiet. If she had turned her head, she would have seen the torch light gleam in his brass scales and his lust-filled eyes. She walked with her head down, her gaze fixed on her feet. She did not notice him.
The baaz waited tensely for the kender or someone to come after her, but no one did.
Moving slowly and quietly to keep his claws from clicking on the stone floor, the baaz crept down the tunnel after the female.
He would have to let her get far enough away from the others before accosting her, so that no one would hear her scream.
15
Caramon’s choice. Tika misses
her skillet. Raistlin misses a spell.
he did what?” Caramon towered over Tasslehoff. The big man’
s face was red, his eyes flashed. The kender had never seen him so angry. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“She made me promise!” Tas wailed.
“Since when in your life have you ever kept a promise?” Caramon roared. “Light that torch for me, and be quick about it!’
“She said that if I told you, everything in my pouch would change into roaches,” Tas returned. Light flared. Raistlin sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What is the matter with you two? Stop bellowing, Caramon. You’re making noise enough to wake the dead!”
“Tika’s gone,” said Caramon, buckling on his sword belt. “She left in the middle of the night. She went back to warn the others.”
“Well … good for her,” Raistlin said. He watched his brother for a few moments in silence, then said, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“After her.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Raistlin said coldly. “She’s been gone for hours. You’ll never catch up with her.”
“She might have stopped to rest.” Caramon grabbed hold of the torch. “You wait here. Go back to sleep. I won’t be gone long …” He paused then said in altered tones, “Where’s Sturm?”
“Oh for the love of—” Raistlin scrambled to his feet. “Shirak!” he said, and the staff’s light began to glow. “This is what comes of leaving a kender on watch!”
“He went in there.” Tas pointed at the library. “I thought he was going to go pee.”
“Did he say anything?” Raistlin’s eyes glittered feverishly.
“I asked him if I could wear the helm and he said ‘no’,” Tas reported sulkily.
Raistlin began to gather up his things. “We have to go after Sturm. He has no idea what he is doing. He could walk straight into the draconian army!”
“It isn’t fair,” Tasslehoff said, gathering up his pouches. “Sturm got to wear the helm all night. I told him it was my turn.”
“What about Tika?” Caramon demanded. “She’s by herself.”
“She is going back to camp. She is not in any danger. Sturm is.”
Dragons of the Dwarven Depths Page 17
