through the trees ahead of him. Two men carried a third between them, his arms across their shoulders. When Sturm got closer he saw why: the carried man had an arrow in his thigh.
'Come on, Hurrik! You can make it!' the leader was saying. Sturm couldn't see the fourth man's face, but he heard him urging the others on. There was a crackle in the dead brush behind him. Sturm looked back and saw dim figures in white flitting among the trees. They wore wolfskin cowls and carried bows. He knew who they were: the dreaded Trackers of Leereach. Hired huntsmen who would track down anyone or anything for a price.
'Stay with us, Hurrik! Don't give up!' the leader whispered urgently.
'Leave me, my lord!' the wounded man replied. The leader stood with his men.
'I'll not leave you to those butchers,' he said.
'Please go, my lord. They will want to give me to their master, and that will give you time to get away,' Hurrik said. There was blood on his armor. Sturm could see it smeared across the man's coif. The two men carrying Hurrik propped him against a tree. They drew his sword for him and wrapped his fingers around the grip. Sturm could see his face, waxen from loss of blood. The trackers stopped. A snickering whistle rattled through the forest. The prey was turning, at bay. The signal meant close in for the kill. The leader, his face still hidden from Sturm, drew a long dagger from his belt and put it in the wounded man's left hand.
'Paladine protect you, Master Hurrik,' he said. 'And you, my lord. Now hurry!' The three unhurt men ran away as fast as their armor would allow. Hurrik raised his sword with pain-filled effort. A wolf's head parted a stand of ripe holly. 'Come out,' said Hurrik. 'Come out and fight me!' The tracker was having none of it. Coolly, he nocked an arrow and let fly. The broadhead found its mark. 'My lord!' Hurrik cried.
The leader paused to look back to where his comrade had died. Sturm saw his face.
'Father!'
He returned to Lunitari with that scream. Sturm was lying on his stomach, his bedroll in knots. Wearily, he sat up to find Kitiara watching him.
'I had a nightmare,' he said, ashamed.
'No,' she said. 'You were awake. I saw you. You've been thrashing about and moaning for a long time. Your eyes were wide open. What did you see?
'I was — I was on Krynn again. I don't know where, but there were trackers. They were after some men, one of whom was my father.'
'Leereach Trackers? Sturm nodded. Sweat stood out on his lip, though the air was cold enough for his breath to show.
'It was real, wasn't it? he said.
'I think it was. This may be your gift, Sturm. Visions.
Like my strength, this is what Lunitari has given you.'
He shuddered. 'Visions of what? The past? The future?
Or am I seeing the present in far-away places? How can I tell, Kit? How can I know?'
'I don't know.' She combed through her black curls with her fingers. 'It hurts, doesn't it? Not knowing.'
'I think I shall go mad!'
'No, you won't. You're too strong for that.' She rose and came around the dying fire to sit by him. Sturm refolded his blanket and lay down. These visions which had been thrust upon him were maddening. They smacked of magic and tor mented him without warning. However, Sturm found him self trying to fix every detail in his mind, going over and over the terrible scene; there could be a clue to his father's fate hidden in these specters. Kitiara laid a hand on his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart.
Chapter 12
Are Missing
The gnomes recovered from their post-prandial lethargy and bounced around the camp, shouting and toss ing tools to each other. Bellcrank found a long dowel and scratched a mark on the side of a hill. 'There's where we dig,' he announced.
'Why there?' asked Cutwood.
'Why not?'
'Wouldn't it be better to go to the top and drive a shaft straight down?' suggested Wingover.
'If we wanted to dig a well, maybe, but not when we're prospecting for iron,' Bellcrank said. After lengthy discus sion about such esoteric matters as geological strata, sedi mentation, and the proper diet of miners, the gnomes discovered that all they had to dig with was two short handled wooden scoops.
'Whose are these?' asked Sighter.
'Mine,' Fitter spoke up. 'One for beans, one for raisins.'
'Isn't there a proper shovel or spade in the cart?'
'No,' said Roperig. 'Of course, if we had some iron, we could make our own shovels — ' Cutwood and Wingover pelted him with dirty socks for his suggestion.
'If scoops are what we have, scoops it'll have to be,' said
Bellcrank. He offered them to Cutwood and Wingover.
'Why us?' said Cutwood.
'Why not?'
'I wish he'd stop saying that,' Wingover said. He shoved his sleeves above his elbows and knelt by the circle that Bell crank had scratched in the turf. 'Oh, rocks,' he sighed.
'You'd better hope to Reorx we strike rocks,' said Cut wood, 'else we'll be digging all day.'
The gnomes gathered around as their two colleagues fell to. The upper layers of flaky red fluff were easily scraped away. The diggers flung scoopfuls over their shoulders, hit ting Sighter and Rainspot in the face. The gnomes withdrew to a cleaner observation point.
Bellcrank bent down and grabbed a handful of the soil that Wingover had tossed back. No longer dry and spongy, this dirt was hard, grainy, and damp. 'Hello,' he said. 'Look at this. Sand.'
Sturm and Kitiara examined the ball of damp sand that
Bellcrank had squeezed in his small fist. It was quite ordi nary sand, tinged pale red.
'Ugh! Ow, here's something,' Cutwood grunted. He kicked a large chunk of something out of the tunnel. The thing wobbled down the slope a little way and stopped. Fit ter picked it up.
'Feels like glass,' he said. Sighter took it from him.
'It is glass. Crude glass,' Sighter said.
More bits of glass came out of the hole, along with sand, sand, and more sand. Wingover and Cutwood had tunneled headfirst into the hillside and now only their feet showed in the opening. Sturm told them to stop digging.
'It's no use,' he said. 'There's no ore here.'
'I must agree with Master Brightblade,' said Bellcrank.
'The whole hill is likely one big pile of sand.'
'Where does the glass come from?' Kitiara asked.
'Any source of heat can melt sand into glass. Lightning, forest fire, volcano.'
'That's not important,' Sturm said. 'We dug for iron and found glass. The question is, what do we do now?'
'Go on looking?' said Fitter timidly.
'What about Stutts and the others?' Kitiara asked.
'Strip my gears, I forgot about our colleagues,' said
Roperig. 'What shall we do?'
Sturm said, 'We'll go back. It'll be daylight again before we reach the flying ship, and we can harvest some spear plants for Stutts, Birdcall, and Flash to eat. Once we're all together, we can repair the engine — ' He regarded Kit grave ly. '- 'with the iron that Kitiara and I wear on us. You gnomes can forge our arms and armor into
