"The minotaur isles?'' asked a surprised Tanis. "But they're thousands of miles away, several months of arduous land travel. Even if Sturm, Caramon and Tasslehoff have been taken there, if they're in danger, we could never hope to arrive in time."
"How the devil would they get from the Straits of Schallsea to the minotaur isles in so short a time?" asked a bewildered Flint.
"I don't know how," admitted Raistlin. "Probably by some highly evolved magic. But if they are alive, that is where they are. This I believe. And I am going to go there and try to find them. The only thing I want to know is are you going to come with me?"
"How?" asked Tanis again. "How can we possibly hope to cover such a distance?"
The mage's eyes glittered excitedly. "When I spoke with Morath, he told me of an oracle who lives near Darken-wood and knows of a portal that could take us, in the matter of heartbeats, to Ogrebond on the coast of the BloodSea."
"Ogrebond!" muttered Flint disconsolately.
"From there, we would have to make our own way by hiring a ship and crossing the BloodSea to the minotaur kingdom."
"Oh, no!" Flint threw up his hands. "I'm not crossing any BloodSea! I've heard all about the BloodSea!" He pointed out across peaceful CrystalmirLake. "Maybe," he continued, "just maybe, I'd cross CrystalmirLake to rescue my friends, but maybe I wouldn't, either. It would depend on my mood and which friends they happened to be. But you're not going to get me into a boat to cross the BloodSea no matter what portal or which friends or how many coppers you gave some shrewd roving peddler!"
Raistlin paid little attention to the grizzled dwarf, who was making a great show of stomping around kicking rocks and tree stumps. He stared intently at Tanis. The half-elf shifted uncomfortably under Raistlin's gaze. Tanis guessed the mage knew more than he was telling them, but he didn't doubt his genuine purpose. He knew that if Raistlin believed it to be so, then Sturm, Caramon, and Tas were indeed in trouble.
After a long silence, Tanis stood and extended his hand in agreement. "They would risk their lives for us," said the half-elf solemnly, "and we owe as much to them."
Raistlin gave him a nod of thanks.
"What about Kit?" Tanis asked, thinking of her all of a sudden. "Don't you think one of us should make an effort to contact her?"
"I have already sent her a message," said Raistlin. "Don't worry about Kitiara. If she can meet up with us, she will."
"But where is she?" persisted Tanis. "Maybe I—"
Raistlin cut him off with a look.
Flint stood near the shore, glowering, holding a perfectly round, flat stone in his hand. He sailed it out over the water. It skipped once, twice, then sank. A bad omen, he was certain.
The stocky dwarf came over to Raistlin and Tanis, who were waiting for his decision. He looked them both in the face, certain he was staring at two fools.
He extended his thick, right arm and laid his knotty hand over Tanis's and Raistlin's. "I just want to make one thing clear," the dwarf growled to the mage. "I'm doing this for Sturm and your brother, not for that blasted kender!"
* * * * *
Raistlin had told them to pack food, weapons, clothing, climbing equipment, and other essentials. Flint got little sleep that night, packing and repacking his haversack, sharpening his axe and knife, and muttering to himself about what a fool he was. Just before dawn, a knock sounded at the door, and there stood Tanis, all packed for the trip and grinning broadly. What put the half-elf in such a blasted good mood? Flint wondered.
They were supposed to meet Raistlin at a bend in the road leading out of Solace. Hurrying out the door, Flint remembered something, then raced back in and brought out the piece of bark. With a stub of charcoal, he scribbled something and hung the sign on his door as he and Tanis hurried out into the gray dawn.
The sign read, Gone Hunting—Indefinitely.
Chapter 3
Uncle Nellthis
For six days, Nellthis's hired men had been trying to pick up the trail of the elusive leucrotta that was rumored to be preying on denizens of the forest east of Lemish near the foothills of a small, saw-toothed mountain range.
Of all the unusual creatures of Ansalon, the leucrotta was one of the most rare, so rare that Nellthis doubted the reports of its existence so near his fiefdom.
He sent a loyal subordinate, a broad-shouldered worthy by the name of Ladin Elferturm, his best hunter, to lead the band of a dozen stalwart men who would stalk the creature.
Around women and at feasts and small gatherings, Elferturm seemed a bumpkin whose thick tongue was somehow stuck in his square jaw. But in the forest or the mountains he was in his element, his senses alert to the slightest nuance of sound or smell. No one had better aim with a longbow—no one except Nellthis himself, that is.
Even accepting that the rumors were correct and a leucrotta was in the vicinity, tracking it would be tricky. A leucrotta's hoofprints were virtually identical to those of a stag, and the woods in these parts were rife with mature deer. By the second day, Ladin Elferturm believed the peasant accounts because he had found several carcasses of doe and stags, ravaged and torn by sharp, jagged teeth, then left half-eaten. By the fourth day, he felt certain that he could distinguish the tracks of the leucrotta from the other wild animals in the area, and that he and his men had the huge, dangerous creature on the run.
On the morning of the sixth day, Ladin Elferturm squatted on his haunches and, with his fingertips, felt the moist-ness of the spoor on the ground at his feet. His almond eyes, framed by short black hair and a well-trimmed beard, lifted up to note the steep,
