Chapter 5
The Oracle and the Portal
Fallen tree limbs overgrown with twisted pines and a sponge-like, mossy vegetation crosshatched the dense forest, making the going difficult. Sudden torrents of water, evidence of some vast underground river, surfaced, rushed by, then vanished back beneath the wooded maze.
The land sloped gradually upward. Peaks ringed the forest where the terrain broke into abrupt escarpments and promontories. Here and there, shafts of pale sunlight pierced the greenish-blue atmosphere that enveloped the woods.
Slowly the three friends made their way through the junglelike forest. With blunt swings, Flint and Tanis hacked away at the lush greenery, clearing a path. Tanis grumbled at having to use his sword for such activity, while Flint, who had been the grumbler for most of the morning, could find some pleasure in wielding the sharp-edged shortaxe he usually kept slung at his side. Behind them, Raistlin waited wordlessly each time they halted, leaning on the stout cedar walking stick that had been carved for him by Flint some months ago. His pale face was lined with tension, but he was more patient with delay than either of his two companions.
The Master Mage's directions had been very precise. Although well-concealed, its whereabouts known only to a small, privileged number of magic practitioners, the cave of the Oracle lay only slightly more than half a day's trek from Solace. Morath had warned Raistlin to beware. In spite of deceptive appearances, the Oracle had fantastic powers and did not welcome uninvited strangers.
Outside Solace, the crushed gravel road that led to the southeast cleaved into two smaller pebble roads, one leading deeper into the mountainous south and the other curving to the east. Following Morath's instructions, Tanis, Flint, and Raistlin took the eastern fork. After a half-dozen miles, the path spidered off in numerous directions, giving a traveler the choice of several well-trodden dirt paths. Without the Master Mage's counsel, they never would have chosen the least of these, a northeasterly trail of dirt and mud that led, after a few miles, to a seeming dead end, a thick canopy of low-growing plants surrounding a grove of immense, broad-leafed trees with low-slung branches and huge trunks.
For half an hour, they slashed their way through the smothering undergrowth, then maneuvered past a cluster of formidable trees with outstretched branches. On the other side of the barrier, as the Master Mage had foretold, the faint traces of the old trail resumed.
Sometimes stooping, at other times crawling over or under obstacles of boulders and fallen trees, the trio spent an hour laboring on the wending, debris-ridden trail.
Raistlin kept a dogged pace. His determination to reach the Oracle impressed Tanis, who had banished Kitiara from his thoughts and was occupied with the task at hand. Flint took every opportunity to gripe and grumble.
"This mage of yours better know what he's talking about!" Flint complained at one point, mopping his brow with a handkerchief that was by now mottled with dirt and sweat.
Raistlin fixed him with a stare. "If you have any doubts, then turn back," rasped Caramon's twin, who was every bit as road-weary as the dwarf and furthermore less accustomed to such exertion. His face was pale and shiny. "Although I thought someone with your forest skills would find this outing a lark."
Flint scowled furiously but held his tongue, turning his back on Raistlin and continuing to clear the trail. Tanis would also have liked some assurances, but he saw the glint of anger in Raistlin's eyes and chose to say nothing.
Finally the elusive trail appeared to end in a small grassy clearing. At one end of the clearing stood a mammoth fir tree with a trunk that seemed welded to other trees and huge rocks wedged up behind it. At the base of the great fir was a black, hollow maw. This was obviously the place, for out of the cavity spewed tendrils of mist, accompanied by a strange brackish smell.
Both Flint and Tanis hesitated, but Raistlin moved ahead of them, peering cautiously. With his staff, he beckoned the dwarf and half-elf forward. The young mage led the three of them up to the mouth of the forbidding cave.
"Hallo!" cried Raistlin boldly, leaning into the darkness, his voice harsh and loud in the forest calm. "Three friends have come to call! We have greetings from Morath, the Master Mage!"
The only reply was silence. As Raistlin spoke, cold, white fingers of mist curled around his feet and spiraled upward, encircling his legs and his body, not quite touching the young mage, but oscillating and pulsating as if responding to the warmth of his blood.
With widening eyes, Tanis observed the eerie mists and glanced over at Flint, who nodded grimly. A few paces behind Raistlin, the two of them pulled weapons. Over his shoulder, the young mage cast a stern glance. Reluctantly the dwarf and half-elf sheathed their fighting tools.
After several long moments, Raistlin shook his head with irritation and came to a decision. Without a word of warning to his companions, he lowered his staff, ducked his head, and plunged into the black cavity. Almost instantaneously the mist broke up and was sucked inside the cave with him. Flint and Tanis had to hurry to catch up.
Just inside the opening, the three collided. Raistlin had paused beyond the entrance to allow time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. At first, none of them could see very much through the murky darkness. The bone-white mist swirled about them, undulating and changing shape. Even using his elven night vision, Tanis could see little. The mist, while seemingly insubstantial, created a barrier impenetrable to sight. It did not hinder hearing, however. After a moment of utter silence, Tanis and the others picked up the sound of voices, wailing indistinguishably from farther ahead in the darkness.
Nor were their senses of smell blocked. "It smells worse than a dead troll in here," Tanis whispered to Flint, who clutched a rag to his nose and mouth in an attempt to
