“Tanis! Caramon!” Tas shouted. “Up here!”
Both men glanced around in astonishment at the sound of the kender’s voice. Then Caramon, catching hold of Tanis, pointed.
“Tasslehoff!” Caramon called, his booming voice echoing in the tower chamber. “Tas! This door, behind us! It’s locked! We can’t get out!”
“I’ll be right there,” Tas called in excitement, climbing up onto the railing and preparing to leap down into the thick of things.
“No!” Tanis screamed. “Unlock it from the other side! The other side!” He pointed frantically.
“Oh,” Tas said in disappointment. “Sure, no problem.” He climbed back down and was just turning to his doorway when he saw the draconians on the stairs below Tanis and Caramon suddenly cease fighting, their attention apparently caught by something. There was a harsh word of command, and the draconians began shoving and pushing each other to one side, their faces breaking into fanged grins. Tanis and Caramon, startled at the lull in the battle, risked a cautious glance over the top of the bench, while Tas stared down over the railing of the balcony.
A draconian in black robes decorated with arcane runes was ascending the stairs. He held a staff in his clawed hand—a staff carved into the likeness of a striking serpent.
A Bozak magic-user! Tas felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach almost as bad as the one he’d had when the dragon came in for a landing. The draconian soldiers were sheathing their weapons, obviously figuring the battle was ending. Their wizard would handle the matter, quickly and simply.
Tas saw Tanis’s hand reach into his belt … and come out empty. Tanis’s face went white beneath his beard. His hand went to another part of his belt. Nothing there. Frantically, the half-elf looked around on the floor.
“You know,” said Tas to himself, “I’ll bet that bracelet of magic resistance would come in handy now. Perhaps that’s what he’s hunting for. I guess he doesn’t realize he lost it.” Reaching into a pouch, he drew out the silver bracelet.
“Here it is, Tanis! Don’t worry! You dropped it, but I found it!” he cried, waving it in the air.
The half-elf looked up, scowling, his eyebrows coming together in such an alarming manner that Tas hurriedly tossed the bracelet down to him. After waiting a moment to see if Tanis would thank him (he didn’t), the kender sighed.
“Be there in a minute!” he yelled. Turning, he dashed back through the door and ran down the stairs.
“He certainly didn’t act very grateful,” Tas humpfed as he sped along. “Not a bit like the old fun-loving Tanis. I don’t think being a hero agrees with him.”
Behind him, muffled by the wall, he could hear the sound of harsh chanting and several explosions. Then draconian voices raised in cries of anger and disappointment.
“That bracelet will hold them off for a while,” Tas muttered, “but not for long. Now, how do I get over to the other side of the tower to reach them? I guess there’s no help for it but to go clear back to the bottom level.”
Racing down the stairs, he reached the ground level again, ran past the room where he had entered the citadel, and continued on until he came to a corridor running at right angles to the one he was in. Hopefully, it led to the opposite side of the tower where Tanis and Caramon were trapped.
There was the sound of another explosion and, this time, the whole tower shook. Tas increased his speed. Making a sharp turn to his right, the kender hurtled around a corner.
Bam! He slammed into something squat and dark that toppled over with a “wuf.”
The impact bowled Tas head over heels. He lay quite still, having the distinct impression—from the smell—that he’d been struck by a bundle of rotting garbage. Somewhat shaken, he nevertheless managed to stagger to his feet and, gripping his little knife, prepared to defend himself against the short, dark creature which was on its feet as well.
Putting a hand to its forehead, the creature said, “Ooh,” in a pained tone. Then, glancing about groggily, it saw Tas standing in front of it, looking grim and determined. Torchlight flashed off the kender’s knife blade. The “ooh,” turned to an “AAAAAHHH.” With a groan, the smelly creature fainted dead away.
“Gully dwarf!” said Tas, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He sheathed his knife and started to leave. Then he stopped. “You know, though,” he said, talking to himself, “this might come in handy.” Bending down, Tas grasped the gully dwarf by a handful of rag and shook it. “Hey, wake up!”
Drawing a shuddering breath, the gully dwarf opened his eyes. Seeing a stern-looking kender crouched threateningly above him, the gully dwarf went deathly white, hurriedly closed his eyes again, and attempted to look unconscious.
Tas shook the bundle again.
With a trembling sigh, the gully dwarf opened one eye, and saw Tas was still there. There was only one thing to do—look dead. This is achieved (among gully dwarves) by holding the breath and going instantly stiff and rigid.
“C’mon,” play Tas irritably, shaking the gully dwarf. “I need your help.”
“You go way,” the gully dwarf said in deep, sepulchral tones. “Me dead.”
“You’re not dead yet,” Tas said in the most awful voice he could muster, “but you’re going to be unless you help me!” He raised the knife.
The gully dwarf gulped and quickly sat up, rubbing his head in confusion. Then, seeing Tas, he threw his arms around the kender. “You heal! Me back from dead! You great and powerful cleric!”
“No, I’m not!” snapped Tas, considerably startled by this reaction. “Now, let loose. No, you’re tangled up in the pouch. Not that way.…”
After several moments, he finally managed to divest himself of the gully dwarf. Dragging the creature to his feet, Tas glared at him sternly. “I’m trying to get to the other side of the tower. Is this the right way?”
The gully dwarf stared up and down the corridor thoughtfully, then he turned to Tas. “This right way,” he said finally, pointing in the direction Tas had been heading.
“Good!” Tas started off again.
“What tower?” the gully dwarf muttered, scratching his head.
Tas stopped. Turning around, he glared at the gully dwarf, his hand straying for his knife.
“Me go with great cleric,” the gully dwarf offered hurriedly. “Me guide.”
“That might not be a bad idea,” the kender reflected. Grabbing hold of the gully dwarf’s grubby hand, Tas dragged him along. Soon they found another staircase leading up. The sounds of battle were much louder now—a fact that caused the gully dwarf’s eyes to widen.
He tried to pull his hand loose. “Me been dead once,” the gully dwarf cried, frantically attempting to free himself. “When you dead two times, they put you in box, throw you in big hole. Me not like that.”
Although this seemed an interesting concept, Tas didn’t have time to explore it. Keeping hold of the gully dwarf firmly, Tas tugged him up the stairs, the sounds of fighting on the other side of the wall getting louder every moment. As on the opposite side of the tower, the steep staircase ended at a door. Behind it, he could hear thuds and groans and Caramon’s swearing. Tas tried the handle. It was locked from this side, too. The kender smiled, rubbing his hands again.
“Certainly a well-built door,” he said, studying it. Leaning down, he peered through the keyhole. “I’m here!” he shouted.
“Open the”—muffled shouts—“door!” came Caramon’s booming bellow.
“I’m doing the best I can!” Tas yelled back, somewhat irritably. “I don’t have my tools, you know. Well, I’ll just have to improvise. You—stay here!” He grabbed hold of the gully dwarf, who was just creeping back to the stairs. Taking out his knife, he held it up threateningly. The gully dwarf collapsed in a heap.
“Me stay!” he whimpered, cowering on the floor.
Turning back to the door, Tas stuck the tip of the knife into the lock and began twisting it around carefully. He thought he could almost feel the lock give when somet
hing thudded against the door. The knife jerked out of the lock.
“You’re not helping!” he shouted through the door. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Tas put the knife back in the lock again.
The gully dwarf crawled closer, staring up at Tas from the floor. “Lot you know. Me guess you not such great cleric.”
“What do you mean?” Tas muttered, concentrating.
“Knife not open door,” the gully dwarf said with vast disdain. “Key open door.”
“I know a key opens the door,” Tas said, glancing about in exasperation, “but I don’t have—Give me that!”
Tas angrily snatched the key the gully dwarf was holding in its hand. Putting the key into the door lock, he heard it click and yanked the door open. Tanis tumbled out, practically on top of the kender, Caramon running out behind him. The big man slammed the heavy door shut, breaking off the tip of a draconian sword just entering the doorway. Leaning his back against the door, he looked down at Tas, breathing heavily.
“Lock it!” he managed to gasp.
Quickly Tas turned the key in the lock again. Behind the door, there were shouts and more thuds and the sounds of splintering wood.
“It’ll hold for a while, I think,” Tanis said, studying the door.
“But not long,” Caramon said grimly. “Especially with that Bozak mage down there. C’mon.”
“Where?” Tanis demanded, wiping sweat from his face. He was bleeding from a slash on his hand and numerous cuts on his arms, but otherwise appeared unhurt. Caramon was covered with blood, but most of it was green, so Tas assumed that it was the enemy’s. “We still haven’t found out where the device that flies this thing is located!”
“I’ll bet he knows,” Tas said, pointing to the gully dwarf. “That’s why I brought him along,” the kender added, rather proud of himself.
There was a tremendous crash. The door shuddered.
“Let’s at least get out of here,” Tanis muttered. “What’s your name?” he asked the gully dwarf as they hurried back down the stairs.
“Rounce,” said the gully dwarf, regarding Tanis with deep suspicion.
“Very well, Rounce,” Tanis said, pausing on a shadowy landing to catch his breath, “show us the room where the device is that flies this citadel.”
“The Wind Captain’s Chair,” Caramon added, glaring at the gully dwarf sternly. “That’s what we heard one of the goblins call it.”
“That secret!” Rounce said solemnly. “Me not tell! Me make promise!”
Caramon growled so fiercely that Rounce went dead white beneath the dirt on his face, and Tas, afraid he was going to faint again, hurriedly interposed. “Pooh! I’ll bet he doesn’t know!” Tas said, winking at Caramon.
“Me do too know!” Rounce said loftily. “And you try trick to make me tell. Me not fall for stupid trick.”
Tas slumped back against the wall with a sigh. Caramon growled again, but the gully dwarf, cringing slightly, still stared at him with brave defiance. “Cross pigs not drag secret out of me!” Rounce declared, folding his filthy arms across a grease-covered, food-spattered chest.
There was a shattering crash from above, and the sound of draconian voices.
“Uh, Rounce,” Tanis murmured confidentially, squatting down beside the gully dwarf, “what is it exactly that you’re not supposed to tell?”
Rounce assumed a crafty look. “Me not supposed to tell that the Wind Captain’s Chair in top of middle tower. That’s what me not supposed to tell!” He scowled at Tanis viciously and raised a small, clenched fist. “And you can’t make me!”
They reached the corridor leading to the room where the Wind Captain’s Chair wasn’t located (according to Rounce, who had been guiding them the entire way by saying, “This not door that lead to stair that lead to secret place”). They entered it cautiously, thinking that things had been just a little too quiet. They were right. About halfway down the corridor, a door burst open. Twenty draconians, followed by the Bozak magic-user, lunged out at them.
“Get behind me!” Tanis said, drawing his sword. “I’ve still got the bracelet—” Remembering Tas was with them, he added, “I think,” and glanced hurriedly at his arm. The bracelet was still there.
“Tanis,” said Caramon, drawing his sword and falling back slowly as the draconians, waiting for instructions from the Bozak, hesitated, “we’re running out of time! I know! I can sense it! I’ve got to get to the Tower of High Sorcery! Someone’s got to get up there and fly this thing!”
“One of us can’t hold off this many!” Tanis returned. “That doesn’t leave anyone to operate the Wind Captain—” The words died on his lips. He stared at Caramon. “Oh, you’re not serious—”
“We don’t have any choice,” Caramon growled as the sound of chanting filled the air. He glanced back at Tasslehoff.
“No,” Tanis began, “absolutely not—”
“There’s no other way!” Caramon insisted. Tanis sighed, shaking his head.
The kender, watching both of them, blinked in confusion. Then, suddenly, he understood.
“Oh, Caramon!” he breathed, clasping his hands together, barely avoiding skewering himself with his knife. “Oh, Tanis! How wonderful! I’ll make you proud of me! I’ll get you to the Tower! You won’t be sorry! Rounce, I’m going to need your help.”
Grabbing the gully dwarf by the arm, Tas raced along the corridor toward a spiral staircase Rounce was pointing out, insisting that, “This stair not take you to secret place!”
Designed by Lord Ariakas, formerly head of the Dark Queen’s forces during the War of the Lance, the Wind Captain’s Chair that operates a floating citadel has long since passed into history as one of the most brilliant creations of Ariakas’s brilliant, if dark and twisted, mind.
The Chair is located in a room specially built for it at the very top of the citadel. Climbing a narrow flight of spiral steps, the Wind Captain ascends an iron ladder leading to a trap door. Upon opening the trap door, the Captain enters a small, circular room devoid of windows. In the center of the room is a raised platform. Two pedestals, positioned about three feet apart, stand on the platform.
At the sight of these pedestals, Tas—pulling Rounce up after him—drew in a deep breath. Made of silver, standing about four feet tall, the pedestals were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Intricate designs and magical symbols were etched into their surfaces. Every tiny line was filled with gold that glittered in the torchlight streaming up from the stairway below. And, on top of each pedestal, was poised a huge globe, made of shining black crystal.
“You not get up on platform,” Rounce said severely.
“Rounce,” said Tas, climbing up onto the platform, which was about three feet off the floor, “do you know how to make this work?”
“No,” said Rounce coolly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Tas. “Me never been here lots. Me never run errand for big boss wizard. Me never put into this room and me never told fetch whatever wizard want. Me never watch big boss wizard fly many times.”
“Big boss wizard?” Tas said, frowning. He glanced hastily about the small room, peering into the shadows. “Where is the big boss wizard?”
“Him not down below,” Rounce said stubbornly. “Him not getting ready to blow friends to tiny bits.”
“Oh, that big boss wizard,” Tas said in relief. Then the kender paused. “But—if he’s not here—who’s flying this thing?”
“We not flying,” Rounce said, rolling his eyes. “We stand still. Boy, you some dumb cleric!”
“I see,” muttered Tas to himself. “When it’s standing still, the big boss wizard can leave it and go do big boss wizard things.” He glanced around. “My, my,” he said loudly, studying the platform, “what is it I’m not supposed to do?”
Rounce shook his head. “Me never tell. You not s’posed to step in two black circles on floor of platform.”
“I see,” said Tas, stepping into the black circles set into the floor between the pedest
als. They appeared to be made of the same type of black crystal as the glass globes. From the corridor below, he heard another explosion and, again, shouts of the angry draconians. Apparently Tanis’s bracelet was still fending off the wizard’s magic.
“Now,” said Rounce, “you not s’pose to look up at circle in ceiling.”
Looking up, Tas gasped in awe. Above him, a circle the same size and diameter as the platform upon which he stood was beginning to glow with an eerie blue-white light.
“All right, Rounce,” Tas said, his voice shrill with excitement, “what is it I’m not supposed to do next?”
“You not put hands on black crystal globes. You not tell globes which way we go,” Rounce replied, sniffing. “Pooh. You never figure out big magic like this!”
“Tanis.” Tas yelled down through the opening in the floor, “which direction is the Tower of High Sorcery from here?”
For a moment, all he could hear was the clatter of swords and a few screams. Then, Tanis’s voice, sounding gradually closer as he and Caramon backed their way down the corridor, floated up. “Northwest! Almost straight northwest!”
“Right!” Planting his feet firmly in the black crystal depressions, Tas drew a shaking breath, then raised his hands to place them upon the crystal globes—
“Drat!” he cried in dismay, staring up. “I’m too short!”
Looking down at Rounce, he motioned. “I suppose your hands don’t have to be on the globe and your feet don’t have to be in the black circles at the same time?”
Tas had the unfortunate feeling that he already knew the answer to this, which was just as well. The question had thrown Rounce into such a state of confusion that he could only stare at Tas, his mouth gaping open.
Glaring at the gully dwarf simply because he had to have something to glare at in his frustration, Tas decided to try to jump up to touch the globes. He could reach them then, but—when his feet left the black crystal circles—the blue-white light went dim.
Test of the Twins: Legends, Volume Three (Dragonlance Legends) Page 23
