“Whose plans?”
“Whose plans?” Earwig mocked.
He raised his arm above his head, pulling down the sleeve on his brown tunic to reveal his hand. The gold band flashed in the torchlight.
Beware the ring! Raistlin’s voice echoed in Caramon’s mind.
The ceiling had darkened. Motes of light appeared, forming pictures and patterns the warrior found vaguely familiar The poison dulled his mind like a stone against the edge of a sword.
Earwig laughed. “Yes! Look! Look up into your doom! Worship our Queen! Our Queen of Darkness! Takhisis! Takhisis! We celebrate your return to the world!”
Caramon didn’t understand. “Earwig,” he whispered, shivering. “Help me!”
The kender stared down at his friend, and his features softened. Suddenly, he cried, “Help me, Caramon! I can’t stop!”
Pulling a dagger from his belt. Earwig leaped off the stone and ran at the warrior.
The Lord of the Cats slid through the streets of the city, a blur of dark shadow in the moonlit night. He bypassed most of the town’s guard, avoiding Lord Cal’s command
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troops by traveling up side streets and over buildings, climbing with incredible agility, using nothing more than his hands and long, perfect nails.
At the edge of the city limits, he ascended to the rooftops to get a better view. He could see that most of the people were safely locked behind their doors, windows shut and barred. There were still a few roaming about the town, set on spilling the mage’s blood. But most of the mobs had dispersed, their members hurrying home to their wives and family before the coming of the Festival of the Eye. No children in Mereklar would be going out this night to beg for cookies.
Reaching the last building on Southgate Street, Bast leaped the great distance between the dwelling and the wall, jumping gracefully through the air to land without sound. He came to his feet instantly, prepared for danger. He paused, listening intently, then turned to face the lands outside the white barriers of Mereklar. Standing straight, he raised his arms above his head and called to his dominion, summoning them to the world’s end.
Waving the knife wildly, Earwig ran straight at Caramon. The big warrior managed to catch the kender and ward off the knife, both of them falling to the floor. Earwig struggled to free himself, the small body flailing on top of the fighter’s huge frame. Caramon, weakened by the poison, rolled over and pinioned the kender with a wrestling hold, his arm jammed under the small, pointed chin.
“What in the name of the Abyss are you doing?” Caramon grunted.
“You’re not dead yet!” Earwig shrieked.
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“No thanks to you! Oof—”
The kender had slipped his leg underneath the fighter and kicked upward, landing his attack just below the abdomen.
Caramon fell back with a groan. Earwig slashed with the knife, ripping open the warrior’s shoulder before the blade came up against the leather harness and flipped out of the kender’s hands.
Finding himself defenseless. Earwig fell back, taking refuge behind the stone dais.
Caramon leaned against the wall. The wound in his shoulder wasn’t deep, and he managed to stop the bleeding by pressing part of his shirt against it. He reached under his belt and pulled out his cestus, slipping it over his fingers, driving the metal into his flesh to help retain his failing consciousness. He, too, wondered why he wasn’t dead.
As awful as I feel, I sort of wish I were, he thought briefly, pain twisting his insides.
Earwig was staring at him hopefully, perhaps waiting for him to keel over. Using the smooth stone as a prop, Caramon slid back up the wall, pushing with his powerful legs. Three throwing spikes clattered beside his head, bouncing off the smooth stone and falling to his feet. The fighter was late to duck, then realized that the weapons had already missed. Three more projectiles flew out from behind the dais, and two struck him in the arm and chest, bouncing off his armor.
If I don’t stop the kender soon, Caramon thought, it’ll be a race to see if I die from the poison or loss of blood! Taking a deep breath, he dropped to his knees and began to crawl around the giant disk, hoping to take the kender by surprise. The chamber was very quiet, and he knew he sounded as loud as a dwarf on a drinking binge, but he couldn’t help it.