'Que-shu,' Goldmoon's tone allowed no contraction. 'It's on our way. The Eastwall Mountains are just beyond my village.' She started through the tall grass.
Tanis glanced at Riverwind.
'Marulinar the Plainsman called out to her. Running forward, he caught hold of Goldmoon's arm. 'Nikh pat- takh merilar!' he said sternly.
She stared up at him, her eyes blue and cold as the morning sky. 'No,' she said resolutely, 'I am going to our village. It is our fault if something has happened. I don't care if there are thousands of those monsters waiting. I will die with our people, as I should have done.' Her voice failed her. Tanis, watching, felt his heart ache with pity.
Riverwind put his arm around her and together they began walking toward the rising sun.
Caramon cleared his throat. 'I hope I do meet a thousand of those things,' he muttered, hoisting his and his brother's packs.
'Hey,' he said in astonishment. 'They're full.' He peered in his pack. 'Provisions. Several days' worth. And my sword's back in my scabbard!'
'At least that's one thing we won't have to worry about,' Tanis said grimly. 'You all right, Sturm?'
'Yes,' the knight answered. 'I feel much better after that sleep.'
'Right, then. Let's go. Flint, wheres Tas?' Turning, Tanis nearly fell over the kender who had been standing right behind him.
'Poor Goldmoon,' Tas said softly.
Tanis patted him on the shoulder. 'Maybe it won't be as bad as we fear,' the half-elf said, following the Plainsmen through the rippling grass. 'Maybe the warriors fought them off and those are victory fires.'
Tasslehoff sighed and looked up at Tanis, his brown eyes wide. 'You're a rotten liar, Tanis,' the kender said. He had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.
Twilight. The pale sun set. Shafts of yellow and tan streaked the western sky, then faded into dreary night. The companions sat huddled around a fire that offered no warmth, for there existed no flame on Krynn that would drive the chill from their souls. They did not speak to each other, but each sat staring into the fire, trying to make some sense of what they had seen, trying to make sense of the senseless.
Tanis had lived through much that was horrible in his life. But the ravaged town of Que-shu would always stand out in his mind as a symbol of the horrors of war.
Even so, remembering Que-shu, he could only grasp fleeting images, his mind refusing to encompass the total awful vision. Oddly enough, he remembered the melted stones of Que-shu. He remembered them vividly. Only in his dreams did he recall the twisted and blackened bodies that lay among the smoking stones.
The great stone walls, the huge stone temples and edifices, the spacious stone buildings with their rock courtyards and statuary, the large stone arena-all had melted, like butter on a hot summer day. The rock still smoldered, though it was obvious that the village must have been attacked well over a sunrise ago. It was as if a white-hot, searing flame had engulfed the entire village. But what fire was there on Krynn that could melt rock?
He remembered a creaking sound, remembered hearing it and being puzzled by it, and wondering what it was until locating the source of the only sound in the deathly still town became an obsession. He ran through the ruined village until he located the source. He remembered that he shouted to the others until they came. They stood staring into the melted arena.
Huge stone blocks had poured down from the side of the bowl-shaped depression, forming molten ripples of rock around the bottom of the dish. In the center-on grass that was blackened and charred-stood a crude gibbet. Two stout posts had been driven into the burned ground by unspeakable force, their bases splintered by the impact. Ten feet above the ground, a crosspiece pole was lashed to the two posts. The wood was charred and blistered. Scavenger birds perched on the top. Three chains, made of what appeared to be iron before it had melted and run togther, swung back and forth. This was the cause of the creaking sound. Suspended from each chain, apparently by the feet, was a corpse. The corpses were not human; they were hobgoblin. On top of the gruesome structure was a shield stuck to the crosspiece with a broken swordblade.
Roughly clawed on the battered shield were words written in a crude form of Common.
'This is what happens to those who take prisoners against my commands. Kill or be killed.' It was signed, Verminaard. Verminaard. The name meant nothing to Tanis. Other images. He remembered Goldmoon standing in the center of her father's ruined house trying to put back together the pieces of a broken vase. He remembered a dog-the only living thing they found in the entire village-curled around the body of a dead child. Caramon stopped to pet the small dog.
The animal cringed, then licked the big man's hand. It then licked the child's cold face, looking up at the warrior hopefully, expecting this human to make everything all right, to make his little playmate run and laugh again. He remembered Caramon stroking the dog's soft fur with his huge hands. He remembered Riverwind picking up a rock, holding it, aimlessly, as he stared around his burned and blasted village. He remembered Sturm, standing transfixed before the gibbet, staring at the sign, and he remembered the knight's lips moving as though in prayer or perhaps a silent vow.
He remembered the sorrow-lined face of the dwarf who had seen so much tragedy in his long lifetime, as he stood in the center of the ruined village, patting Tasslehoff gently on the back after finding the kender sobbing in a corner.
He remembered Goldmoon's frantic search for survivors. She crawled through the blackened rubble, screaming out names, listening for faint answers to her calls until she was hoarse and Riverwind finally convinced her it was hopeless. If there were any survivors, they had long since fled.
He remembered standing alone, in the center of the town, looking at piles of dust with arrowheads in them, and recognizing them as bodies of draconians.
He remembered a cold hand touching his arm and the mage's whispering voice. 'Tanis, we must leave. There is nothing more we can do and we must reach Xak Tsaroth. Then we will have our revenge.'
And so they left Que-shu. They traveled far into the night, none of them wanting to stop, each wanting to push his body to the point of exhaustion so that, when they finally slept, there would be no evil dreams.
But the dreams came anyway.
13
Chill dawn. Vine bridges. Dark water
Tanis felt clawed hands clutching at his throat. He struggled and fought, then woke to find Riverwind bending over him in the darkness, shaking him roughly.
'What…?' Tanis sat up.
'You were dreaming,' the Plainsman said grimly. 'I had to wake you. Your shouts would draw an army down on us.'
'Yes, thanks,' Tanis muttered. 'I'm sorry.' He sat up, trying to shake off the nightmare. 'What time is it?'
'Still several hours till dawn,' Riverwind said wearily. He returned to where he had been sitting, his back against the trunk of a twisted tree. Goldmoon lay sleeping on the ground beside him. She began to murmur and shake her head, making small, soft, moaning cries like a wounded animal. Riverwind stroked her silver-gold hair, and she quieted.
'You should have wakened me earlier,' Tanis said. He stood up, rubbing his shoulders and neck. 'It's my watch.'
'Do you think I could sleep?' asked Riverwind bitterly.
'You've got to,' Tanis answered. 'You'll slow us up if you don't.'
'The men in my tribe can travel for many days without sleep,' Riverwind said. His eyes were dull and glazed, and he seemed to stare at nothing.
Tanis started to argue, then sighed and kept quiet. He knew that he could never truly understand the agony the Plainsman was suffering. To have friends and family-an entire life-utterly destroyed, must be so devastating
