Dragons of The Dwarven Depths Part 18

"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?"

Ta.s.slehoff 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.surance. 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 pa.s.sed 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 bra.s.s scales and his l.u.s.t-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.

Chapter 15.

Caramon's Choice. Tika Misses Her skillet. Raistlin Misses a spell.

She did what?" Caramon towered over Ta.s.slehoff. 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 dra-conianarmy!"

"It isn't fair," Ta.s.slehoff 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."

Caramon agonized. "I don't know..."

Raistlin picked up his pack. "You do what you want. I am going after Sturm." He stalked off.

"Me too," Tas said. "Maybe it will be my turn to wear the helm tonight. I gave Tika Rabbitslayer, Caramon," he added, feeling sorry for his friend. "She left her sword in the corridor. Oh, and she gave me a message for you! I almost forgot. She said to tell you she understands."

Caramon groaned softly and shook his head.

"I'd stay and talk some more, but I've got to be going," said Tas. "Raistlin might need me."

Tas waited a moment to see if Caramon would come, but the big man did not stir. Fearful that the other two would leave him behind, Tas turned and ran off. Caramon heard the kender's voice coming from the library.

"I can carry your pack for you, Raistlin!"

He heard his brother's voice in answer, "Touch it, and I will slice off your hand."

Caramon made up his mind. Tika understood. She'd said so.

He caught up with his twin at the door leading into the fortress.

"Let me carry that. It's too heavy for you," Caramon said, and he shouldered Raistlin's pack.

Tika walked for hours, anger and frustration and love blazing like embers inside her. First love would flare up, then die down, only to have anger burst into flame. The fire fed her energy, and she made good time, or thought she did. It was hard to tell how far she'd come; the tunnel seemed unending. She talked to herself as she walked, holding imaginary conversations with Caramon and telling Raistlin exactly what she thought of him.

Once she thought she heard something behind her and she stopped, her heart pounding-not with fear, but with hope.

"Caramon!" she called eagerly. "You came after me! I'm so glad..."

She waited, but there was no answer. She didn't hear the sound anymore and decided she must have imagined it.

"Wishful thinking," she muttered to herself and kicked angrily at a loose rock, sending it rolling across the floor. "He's not coming."

In that moment, she faced up to the truth. All the fires in her died.

Caramon was not coming. She'd given him an ultimatum: her or his brother. He had chosen Raistlin.

"He will always choose Raistlin," Tika said to herself. "I know he loves me, but he will always choose Raistlin."

She had no idea why this was so. She only knew it would be so until something happened to separate the two, and maybe not even then.

There was the sound again. This time Tika knew she hadn't imagined it.

"Ta.s.slehoff? Is that you?"

It would be just like the kender to abandon his post and chase after her. He was probably planning to sneak up on her, jump at her out of the shadows, then collapse with laughter at her fright.

If it was Tas, he didn't answer her shout.

She heard the noise again. It sounded like harsh breathing and sc.r.a.ping footfalls, and whoever it was, it wasn't bothering to hide anymore.

"Ta.s.slehoff," Tika faltered. "This isn't funny..."

Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn't Tas. Fear twisted into a cold, hard knot in her belly. Her throat constricted. She couldn't breathe or swallow. She shifted the torch to her left hand, almost dropping it. Her right hand closed spasmodically over the dagger in her belt. She didn't want to die, not alone, in the darkness, and at the thought, a little whimper of terror escaped her.

She couldn't see, but she could hear the sound made by claws sc.r.a.ping across the stone floor, and she knew immediately her pursuer was a draconian. Her first panicked instinct was to run, but though her brain was screaming at her to flee, her legs refused to budge. Besides, there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The harsh panting and grunting came closer and closer. The draconian was finished sneaking about.

He emerged into the torchlight right in front of her, racing straight at her. At the sight of her, his hideous scaly face contorted in a slavering grin. He gurgled, saliva flicked from his jaws. He wore a curve-bladed sword, but he had not drawn it. He did not want to kill his prey; he wanted to enjoy it first.

Tika let the beast-man draw close to her-not from any planned strategy, but because she was too terrified to move. The draconian's red eyes gleamed; his clawed hands opened. He spread his wings and leaped at her, planning to drag her to the stone floor with him on top of her.

Determination hardened in Tika. Determination steadied her hand, turned her terror to strength. Swinging the torch in a wild, backhand stroke, she bashed the draconian in his leering face. Her hit was perfectly if accidentally timed and caught the draconian in mid-flight.

The blow knocked the baaz's head one way and his momentum carried his feet in the opposite direction, upending him. He landed with a heavy thud on the stone floor, his wings crumpled beneath him. Tika flung aside the torch, and holding the dagger in both hands, she was on the baaz in an instant. Screaming in fury, she slashed and stabbed.

The draconian howled and tried to grab hold of her. She didn't know what part of the draconian she was striking; she couldn't see all that well, for a red rage dimmed her vision. She struck at anything that moved. She kicked, stomped, stabbed and slashed, knowing only that she had to keep fighting until the thing stopped moving.

Then her blade struck rock, jarring her arms painfully The dagger slid out of her blood-slick hands. Panicked, Tika scrabbled to find her weapon. She caught hold of it, picked it up, whirled around, and saw her foe dead at her feet. The rock she had hit was the draconian, turned to stone.

Sobbing for breath, shaking all over, Tika tasted a horrid, bitter liquid in her mouth. She retched and felt better. Her frantic heartbeat slowed. She breathed a little easier, and only then felt the burning pain of the scratches on her arms and legs. She picked up the torch, held it over the draconian and waited for the corpse to turn to ashes. Only when it finally disintegrated did she believe it was dead.

Tika shuddered and was about to slump down on the stone floor, when the thought came to her that there might be more of the monsters out there. She hurriedly wiped the blood from her hand to get a better grip on the knife and waited. The pain burned in her arms and her legs and she began to shiver.

Her thinking cleared. If there had been any others, they would have attacked her by now. This one had acted alone, hoping to have his prize all to himself.

Tika took stock of her wounds. Long jagged scratches crisscrossed her arms and her legs, but that was the extent of the damage. Her violent attack had taken the draconian completely by surprise. The scratches burned horribly and bled freely, but that was good. The bleeding would keep the wounds from putrefying.

Tika cleaned out the scratches with water from the water skin, rinsed the draconian's blood from her face and hands, and swished the water around in her mouth to rid herself of the horrid taste. She spit the water out. She was afraid to swallow, afraid she'd throw up again.

She was bone-tired, sick and shaking. She longed to curl up in a ball and have a good cry, but she couldn't bear the thought of spending another moment in this horrid tunnel. Besides, she had to reach Riverwind and there was no time to waste.

Gritting her teeth, Tika thrust Rabbitslayer in her belt and walked determinedly on.

Ta.s.slehoff led Caramon, Raistlin, and Prince Sturm, as the kender was now calling him, up the airshaft. Reaching the top, they peered out cautiously and hopefully. They had not heard any sounds of draconians during the night and had hoped that, having slain the dragon and looted the place, they would have moved on. Instead, they found the draconians camped out underneath the way out.

The draconians slept on the ground, curled up, their tails wrapped around their feet and their wings folded. Most of them slept with their heads on lumpy sacks filled with whatever treasure they'd found in the fortress. One draconian had been left on watch. He sat up with his back against a rock. Every so often, his head would nod and he would slump forward, only to jerk awake again.

"I thought you said it was an army," said Caramon dourly. "I count fifteen."

"That's almost an army," Tas returned.

"Not even close," said Caramon.