“Where is the whatever-it-is that we’re supposed to break? In that building?”
“No. The temple is used as a tunnel between the worlds. The Dark Queen’s altar is beneath the city.”
“In the same place that big stone disk was in,” Earwig stated helpfully.
“Correct,” said the Cat Lord. “I will show you how to go there, but I cannot assist you in more than that.”
Seeing Caramon scowl. Bast added, “My forces and I will be fighting in the city above. Already, the demon army marches down the streets of Mereklar, headed for the gates that, if they should open, would let them out onto an unsuspecting world. Time grows short, the Great Eye burns in the heavens. Follow me!”
Caramon, groaning, heaved himself from the wall on which he’d been leaning.
“You really look bad, Caramon,” said Earwig in concern. “Are you sure you can make it? Here, you can lean on my hoopak.”
Caramon glanced at the frail wooden stick and, smiling, shook his head. “I’ll make it. I have to.”
“Now! This way,” urged Bast.
He slid around the corner and the companions followed, keeping to the shadows. The Cat Lord moved like part of the night, and even the kender’s light footfalls sounded loud compared to Bast’s. Caramon rattled and jangled, his breath came in grunting gasps, and he gritted his teeth against the pain that every move jarred through his body. After traversing several blocks, they either left
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the creatures behind or the demons were moving up into the city of Mereklar.
“I know this street,” said Caramon suddenly.
“You should.” The man in black bent down. Lifting a metal grating from the stone, he pointed down into a black hole. Caramon could hear the sound of running water.
‘This tunnel will lead you where you must go,” said the Cat Lord. “You must destroy the altar as quickly as possible. It will detect any tampering and alert its mistress.”
“You mean it’s alive?” the kender questioned with interest.
“In a manner of speaking. Good-bye, warrior and kender. I will not see you again. Your own gods be with you.”
“Wait!” Caramon yelled, reaching out his hand. But he grasped hold of air. The Lord of Cats was gone, vanishing as silently as the night into day.
“What did you want with him?” asked Earwig, preparing to jump into the sewer.
“I wanted to ask him how to get back home,” said Caramon softly.
Demons dropped from their world through the gate to the real city of Mereklar, landing on their feet with perfect agility. They gazed about with yellow eyes, finally freed from their other-world prison. Mereklar was theirs. They would soon take the rest of Krynn.
They moved forward in small packs, heading toward the city gates, prepared to break out and flood the world with darkness. They had no fear. Their enemy, the cats that once guarded the city, were now dead.
But the gates were closed and would not open, guarded by magic built into them by the gods of good.
Forming into ranks, demon attack groups knelt and
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pointed their wands at the heavy portcullises enclosing the city, firing red streams at the thick metal plates in an attempt to burn them down. Their power, however, had no effect, though they tried for a long time. Sheathing their weapons, they attempted to force the gates with their great strength, but the might of the city’s builders kept them safe.
At Westgate, a commander recalled its troops from their work and sent for reinforcements. The demons retreated at the order, some snarling and baring their teeth in anger.
The commander sniffed at the air, turning its head, checking the air for a scent it recognized, a scent it feared and hated. Moving up to the gate, it glared into the darkness outside the city wall— darkness lit by the Great Eye. Its muzzle twitched in alarm.
“Weapons out — ”
The sweep of a claw cut through its back, rending the flesh from the bone in a spray of watery blood. The demon fell to the ground, lifeless. A huge tiger stood over its body, the demon’s fur hanging from its paw. The enemy fired its deadly bolts at the beast, but it had vanished.