Sir Gawain came to a halt, scowling. 'It is bad enough I must travel in the company of a magic-user — '
'I know,' said Earwig, nodding sympathetically. 'We'll just have to make the best of it, won't we?'
'Ah, let the little fellow come along,' said Caramon, feeling remorseful when he looked at what had once been the kender's jaunty top-knot. 'He might come in handy if we're attacked.'
Gawain hesitated, but it was obvious that the only way to get rid of the kender would be to slice him in two, and though the Oath and the Measure didn't specifically ban a knight from murdering kender, it didn't exactly encourage it, either.
'Attack!' he snorted. The knight resumed his pace, Earwig skipping along beside him. 'We are in no danger until we reach the keep. At least so His Lordship told me.'
'And what else did His Lordship tell you?' Raistlin asked, coughing.
Gawain glared at him dourly, obviously wondering of what use this sickly mage would be to him.
'He told me the tale of the Maiden's Curse. A long time ago, before the Cataclysm, a wizard of the red robes — such as yourself — stole away a young woman from her father's castle and carried her to this keep. A knight, the young woman's betrothed, discovered the abduction and followed after to rescue her. He caught up with the mage and his victim in the keep in this forest.
'The wizard, furious at having his evil plans thwarted, called upon the Queen of Darkness to destroy the knight. The knight, in his turn, called for Paladine to come to his aid. The forces unleashed in the ensuing battle were so powerful that they not only destroyed the wizard and the knight, but they have, even after death, continued to drag others into their conflict.'
'And you wouldn't let me make that bet!' said Caramon reproachfully to his brother.
Raistlin did not appear to hear him. He was, seemingly, lost in thought.
'Well,' said Gawain abruptly, 'and what do you think of that tale?'
'I think that, like most legends, it has outgrown the truth,' answered Raistlin. 'A wizard of the red robes, for example, would not call upon the Queen of Darkness for aid. That is something only wizards of the black robes do.'
'It seems to me,' said Gawain grimly, 'that your kind dabbles in darkness no matter what color robes they wear — the fox cloaking himself in sheep's wool, so the saying goes.'
'Yeah,' retorted Caramon angrily. 'And I've heard a few sayings myself about YOUR kind, Sir Kettle-head. One goes — '
'That will do, my brother,' remonstrated Raistlin, his thin fingers closing firmly over Caramon's arm. 'Save your breath for what lies ahead.'
The group continued on in a silence that was tense and smoldering.
'What happened to the maiden?' Earwig asked suddenly. All three started, having forgotten, in their preoccupation, the kender's presence.
'What?' growled Gawain.
'The maiden. What happened to her? After all, it's called the Maiden's Curse.'
'Yes, it is,' said Raistlin. 'An interesting point.'
'Is it?' Earwig jumped up and down gleefully, scattering the contents of his pouches across the path and nearly tripping Caramon. 'I came up with an interesting point!'
'I don't see why it's called the Maiden's Curse, except that she was the innocent victim,' answered the knight as an afterthought.
'Ah,' said Earwig with a gusty sigh. 'An innocent victim. I know what that feels like!'
The three continued on their way. The walking was easy, the path through the forest was smooth and straight. Too smooth and too straight, according to Caramon, who maintained that it seemed bound and determined to deliver them to their doom as swiftly as possible. Several hours after midnight, they arrived at the fortress known as Death's Keep.
Dark and empty, its stone facade glimmered grayish white in the lambent light of the stars and a pale, thin silver moon. Massive and stalwart, the keep had been designed for function, not beauty. It was square, with a tower at each comer for the lookouts. A wall connecting the towers surrounded a structure whose main purpose had probably been to house troops. Large wooden doors, banded with steel, permitted entrance and egress.
But no soldiers had come here in a long, long time. The battlements were crumbling and in some places had completely fallen down. The walls were split by gigantic cracks, perhaps caused by the Cataclysm, perhaps by the supposedly magical battle that had been fought within. One of the towers had collapsed in upon itself, as had the roof of the central building, for they could see the skeletal outline of broken beams show up black against the myriad glistening stars.
'The keep is deserted,' said Caramon, staring at it in disgust. 'There's no one here, magical or otherwise. I'm surprised those jokers back at the inn didn't send us out here with a bag and tell us to stand in the middle of the path yelling, 'here, snipe!''
'That will be the task I set for you, my bumbling brother!' Raistlin began to cough, but stifled the sound in his sleeve. 'Death's Keep is NOT deserted! I hear voices plainly — or I could if you would silence yours!'
'I, too, hear someone calling out,' said Gawain, awed. 'A knight of my order is trapped in there, and he shouts for help!' The knight, sword in hand, bolted forward. 'I'm coming!' he shouted.
'Me, too!' cried Earwig, leaping in a circle around Raistlin. 'I hear voices! I'm positive I hear voices! What are they saying to you? Do you want to know what they're saying to me? 'Another round of ale!' That's what I hear them calling out.'
'Wait!' Raistlin reached to grasp the knight, but Gawain was running swiftly toward huge double wooden doors. Once this gate would have been closed, locked fast against any foe. Now it stood ominously open. 'He's an imbecile! Go after him, Caramon! Don't let him do anything until I get there!'
'Another round of ale?' Caramon gazed blankly at his brother.
'You blithering dunderhead!' Raistlin hissed through clenched teeth. He pointed a trembling finger at the keep. 'I hear a voice calling to ME, and I recognize it as coming from one of my own kind! It is the voice of a mage! I think I am beginning to understand what is going on. Go after him, Caramon! Knock him down, sit on him if that is all you can do to hold him, but you must prevent Gawain from offering his sword to the knight!'
'Knight? What? Oh, all right, Raist! I'm going. No need to look at me like that. C'mon, Nosepicker.'
Earwig's topknot bobbed indignantly. 'That's Lock — . Oh, never mind! Hey, wait up!'
Caramon, followed by the jubilant kender, dashed off after the knight, but he was late in starting and Gawain had already rushed headlong into the keep. Reaching the wooden doors, Caramon hesitated before entering and cast an uneasy glance back at his brother.
Raistlin, leaning on his staff, was walking as fast as he could, coughing with nearly every step until it seemed he must drop. Still, he kept going, and he even managed to lift his staff and angrily gesture with it to Caramon, commanding him to enter the keep without delay.
Earwig had already darted inside. Discovering he was alone, he turned around and dashed back. 'Aren't you coming? It's wonderfully dark and spooky in here. And you know what?' The kender sighed in ecstasy. 'I really am beginning to hear voices. They want me to come and help them fight! Just think of that. Can I borrow your dagger?'
'No!' Caramon snarled. He, too, could hear the voices now. Ghostly voices.
'My cause is just! All know wizards are foul creatures, spawned of darkness. For the pride and honor of our Order of the Sword, join with me!'
'My cause is just! All know the knights hide behind their armor, using their might to bully and threaten those weaker than themselves. For the pride and honor of our Order of the Red Robes, join with me!'
Caramon was beginning to get the uncomfortable feeling that the keep wasn't as deserted as he'd first thought. Reluctantly, wishing his brother were at his side, he entered the keep. The big warrior wasn't afraid of anything in this world that was made of flesh and blood. These eerie voices had a cold, hollow sound that unnerved him. It was as if they were shouting to him from the bottom of a grave.
He and the kender stood in a long passage leading from the outer wall to the inner hall. The corridor was adorned with various defensive mechanisms for dealing with an invading enemy. He could see starlight through arrow slits lining the cracked stone walls. Bereft of his brother's lighted staff and the knight's torch, Caramon was forced to grope his way through the darkness, following the flickering flame shining ahead of him, and he nearly
