Quinby heard the soldier and, filled with fury, he shouted in return, 'On this day you will not only fight kender, you will die at our hands!' The soldier thrust his sword's point toward Quinby's throat. But the kender nimbly parried, then lunged forward and stabbed the enemy clean through the heart.
Scores of kender and gnomes witnessed Quinby's bold declaration and even bolder swordplay. A great cheer went up when the dragonarmy soldier fell. For, in that moment, Quinby Cull had done more than simply kill one enemy. He had shown that the kender were a force to be reckoned with. He had given dignity back to his race. And he had shown that a kender could be a hero!
On the heels of Quinby's dramatic battle, the kender drove the better-armed and better-trained dragon-army force away from the gate as they fought for control of the prison grounds.
But the Highlord's soldiers quickly formed a new battle line. Their bowman sent one withering volley after another into the kender ranks. In their fearless-ness, the kender didn't let the arrows stop them. Even with bloody shafts sticking in their stomachs, shoulders, and legs — many of them dying on their feet — the kender troops charged headlong into the dragonarmy lines. They swung crude swords and knives at the soldiers until their enemy was finally routed.
It was then that a shockingly small number of dwarves led by Vigre Arch came streaming through the open gate.
'Where are the rest of your people?' demanded Barsh.
'You promised you would have an army of dwarves,' echoed Quinby. 'There are barely a hundred of you here. What's going on?'
Vigre took a deep breath and told them the bad news.
'Dragonarmy soldiers are coming this way,' he reported. 'We saw them from the top of the ravine. There must be at least two thousand of them marching through the city. We'd all be trapped in the prison if they got here before Spinner was freed. So I ordered most of our people to meet the dragonarmy soldiers in the street and fight them there. It was the only way to stall for time.'
Barsh and Quinby turned pale. A ragtag group of dwarves didn't have a chance against two thousand crack dragonarmy troops. Vigre's people were going to be slaughtered. They must have known their fate, yet they were willing to sacrifice their lives for stories they would never hear. Truly, thought Quinby, this was the stuff of legend. He put his hand on Vigre's shoulder and said, 'If I were a dwarf, I'd be proud on this day. Then again,' he added, considering, 'I'm not a dwarf.'
Vigre looked at the kender trying to decide what Quinby meant.
'No matter what happens,' Quinby went on, oblivious to Vigre's questioning stare, 'your people belong in Spinner's stories. Not all of his stories,' he hastily added. 'Just one of them.'
Vigre gave up trying to figure out the kender's intentions and simply said, 'Spinner could make a fine, though tragic, tale of the battle in the city. So let's make sure that he lives to tell it. I'll take what's left of our force and fight our way through the prison till we find our storyteller.'
'But there aren't enough of you,' Quinby declared. 'You're going to need help. I'll take some kender and go with you.'
'And I'll come, too,' volunteered Barsh. 'I'll bring a small troop of gnomes along.'
Vigre couldn't refuse. He knew they were right. There was no telling how many of the Dragon Highlord's soldiers were waiting for them inside the prison's labyrinth of cells.
'Come on,' he said. 'Spinner must be wondering what all the noise is about.'
I was, indeed, wondering what all the noise was about. The night had nearly passed, and I waited for the dawning, resigned to my fate. My cellmate, Davin, had listened to me throughout the night, offering not a word of his own.
Then I heard shouts and screams filtering down to the depths of the filthy dungeon where I had been left to languish until my death.
'What's going on?' I called out to a dragonarmy guard who raced past the cell.
He ignored me.
'What do you think is happening?' I asked Davin. He shook his head.
The noise grew louder. It sounded like battle. There was the clash of steel on steel. There were howls of pain, boots running on stone, and shouts of… my name!
'Here!' I cried. 'I'm here! This way!'
I couldn't believe my own senses. But yes, it was the voice of Quinby Cull calling out to me! Then I heard Vigre Arch. My mind was reeling when even that clever gnome, Barsh, made his presence known.
'It's impossible!' I exclaimed. And then I turned to Davin. 'Do you hear them, or have I gone mad? Are my friends really here to save me?'
My cellmate was about to answer, but then, instead, he shouted, 'Look out!'
Too late. A prison guard had suddenly appeared at my cell and grabbed me through the bars. 'I'll see you dead before they free you,' he vowed. And then he lifted his dagger and plunged it toward my chest.
Davin was faster than I was. He lunged forward and grabbed the guard's wrist just before the knife could strike me. He twisted the man's arm against the iron bars until there was an audible crack. The guard screamed as the knife clattered to the floor. He ran in terror as Quinby, Vigre, and Barsh led a legion of their people toward my cell.
'Keys!' crowed Barsh, dangling them happily in the air.
'We took them from an officer at the landing,' explained Vigre. 'You're going to be free.'
'We're glad to see you,' said Quinby, standing back from the door with tears of joy in his eyes.
'YOU'RE glad to see me?' I cried in disbelief. 'To be sure, it's the other way around!'
The cell door flew open.
'Come with us,' said Quinby. 'We came to save you. Now you and your stories can live forever!'
Spinner Kenro ended the long tale about himself with a flourish, his voice rising in a dramatic crescendo. His timing was impeccable. No sooner had he finished than a prison guard unlocked the cell door. 'It's dawn,' said the Highlord's emissary. Spinner took a deep breath and rose to his feet. 'Sometimes,' he said softly, 'I half believe my own stories. There was a part of me that really thought my friends would come and save me. Do you think I'm foolish, Davin?'
I couldn't answer. I was crying.
Spinner had not slept. He had sat up against a wall, weaving his final story during the last hours of his life. And I was his only audience.
They hanged Spinner Kenro at daybreak.
Spinner died a great many years ago, but his memory lives on. For that night in the prison he opened the window of my soul. And though his voice was stilled, his gift was somehow passed to me. I've told many stories throughout the years as I've traveled across Krynn. But I never fail to tell this, the one, great, final story exactly as Spinner told it to me that night in the prison.
Oh, I know what really happened. Quinby, Vigre, and Barsh did try to save Spinner. But once they made their plans, Quinby forgot all about them — he was true to his kender soul; out of sight, out of mind. Vigre, ever distrustful of humans, had second thoughts about the entire enterprise. Meanwhile, Barsh and his gnomes did set about creating a huge wall-scaling device. The problem was that it was so big that they couldn't get it out of the building in which they had constructed it. It's still there to this day.
Now, you might say that the truth doesn't make a good tale. But that's not the point. There is a higher truth than the facts. And that truth reveals itself every time I tell Spinner's story. For as the years went by, the kender, dwarves, and gnomes of Flotsam grew to BELIEVE that they had saved Spinner. They have convinced themselves that on one cold, windswept night they joined together to make history, to reach greatness, to become heroes. And if they did it once, might they not do it again?
