“Listen to me!” Goldmoon’s nails dug into Tanis’s arm. “Stay with Riverwind, Tanis. Do not let him try to stop me.”
“And if I tried to stop you?” Tanis asked gently, holding Goldmoon close in his arms.
“You won’t,” she said with a sweet, sad smile. “You know that each of us has a destiny to fulfill-as the Forestmaster said Riverwind will need you. Farewell, my friend.”
Goldmoon stepped back, her clear blue eyes on Riverwind as though she would memorize every detail to keep with her throughout eternity. Realizing she was saying goodbye, he started to go to her.
“Riverwind,” Tanis said softly. “Trust her. She trusted you, all those years. She waited while you fought the battles. Now it is you who must wait. This is her battle.”
Riverwind trembled, then stood still. Tanis could see the veins swell in his neck, his jaw muscles clench. The half-elf gripped the Plainsman’s arm. The tall man didn’t even look at him. His eyes were on Goldmoon.
“What is this delay?” the dragon asked. “I grow bored. Come forward.”
Goldmoon turned away from Riverwind. She walked past Flint and Tasslehoff. The dwarf bowed his head. Tas watched wide-eyed and solemn. Somehow this wasn’t as exciting as he had imagined. For the first time in his life, the kender felt small and helpless and alone. It was a horrible, unpleasant feeling, and he thought death might be preferable.
Goldmoon stopped near Caramon, put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry,” she said to the big warrior, who was staring at his brother in agony, “he’ll be all right.” Caramon choked and nodded. And then Goldmoon neared Sturm. Suddenly, as if the horror of the dragon was too overwhelming, she slumped forward. The knight caught her and held her.
“Come with me, Sturm,” Goldmoon whispered as he put his arm around her. “You must vow to do as I command, no matter what happens. Vow on your honor as a Knight of Solamnia.”
Sturm hesitated. Goldmoon’s eyes, calm and clear, met his.
“Vow,” she demanded, “or I go alone.”
“I vow, lady,” he said reverently. “I will obey.”
Goldmoon sighed thankfully. “Walk with me. Make no threatening gesture.”
Together the barbarian woman of the Plains and the knight walked toward the dragon.
Raistlin lay beneath the dragon’s claw, his eyes closed, preparing himself mentally for the spell that would be his last. But the words to the spell would not form out of the turmoil in his mind. He fought to regain control.
I am wasting myself-and for what? Raistlin wondered bitterly. To get these fools out of the mess they got themselves into. They will not attack for fear of hurting me-even though they fear and despise me. It makes no sense-just as my sacrifice makes no sense. Why am I dying for them when I deserve to live more than they?
It is not for them you do this, a voice answered him. Raistlin started, trying to concentrate, to catch hold of the voice It was a real voice, a familiar voice, but he couldn’t remember whose it was or where he had heard it. All he knew was that it spoke to him in moments of great stress. The closer to death he came the louder was the voice.
It is not for them that you make this sacrifice, the voice repeated. It is because you cannot bear defeat! Nothing has ever defeated you, not even death itself.
Raistlin drew a deep breath and relaxed. He did not understand the words completely, just as he could not remember the voice. But now the spell came easily to his mind. “Astol arakhkh urn-” he murmured, feeling the magic begin to course through his frail body. Then another voice broke his concentration and this voice was a living voice speaking to his mind He opened his eyes, turned his head slowly, and stared into the chamber at his companions.
The voice came from the woman-barbarian princess of a dead tribe. Raistlin looked at Goldmoon as she walked toward him leaning on Sturm’s arm. The words in her mind had touched Raistlin’s mind. He regarded the woman coldly detachedly. His distorted vision had forever killed any physical desire the mage might have felt when he looked upon human flesh. He could not see the beauty that so captivated Tanis and his brother. His hourglass eyes saw her withering and dying he felt no closeness, no compassion for her. He knew she pitied him-and he hated her for that-but she feared him as well So why, then, was she speaking to him?