“It doesn’t look bad at all,” the kender said cheerfully. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, a sheaf of parchment spread out on his knees, he was drawing a map with a bit of charcoal, attempting to trace their way up Prayer’s Eye Peak.
“Looks are as deceptive as light-fingered kender,” Raistlin whispered harshly.
Tasslehoff frowned, started to retort, then caught Tanis’s eye and went back to his drawing. Tanis walked over to Sturm. The knight stood out on a ledge, the south wind blowing back his long hair and whipping his frayed cape about him.
“Sturm, where is the stag? Do you see it now?”
“Yes,” Sturm answered. He pointed downward. “It walked across the meadow; I can see its trail in the tall grass. It has gone into the aspens there.”
“Gone into Darken Wood,” Tanis murmured.
“Who says that is Darken Wood?” Sturm turned to face Tanis.
“Raistlin.”
“Bah!”
“He is magi,” Tanis said.
“He is crazed,” Sturm replied. Then he shrugged. “But stay here rooted on the side of the Peak if you like, Tanis. I will follow the stag-as did Huma-even if it leads me into Darken Wood.” Wrapping his cloak around him, Sturm climbed down the ledge and began to walk along a winding trail that led down the mountainside.
Tanis returned to the others. “The stag’s leading him on a straight path right into the forest,” he said. “How certain are you that this forest is Darken Wood, Raistlin?”
“How certain is one of anything, Half-Elven?” the mage replied. “I am not certain of drawing my next breath. But go ahead. Walk into the wood that no living man has ever walked out of. Death is life’s one great certainty, Tanis.”
The half-elf felt a sudden urge to throw Raistlin off the side of the mountain. He stared after Sturm, who was nearly halfway down into the valley.
“I’m going with Sturm,” he said suddenly. “But I’ll be responsible for no one else in this decision. The rest of you may follow as you choose.”
“I’m coming!” Tasslehoff rolled his map up and slipped it into his scroll case. He scrambled to his feet, sliding in the loose rock.
“Ghosts!” Flint scowled at Raistlin, snapped his fingers derisively, then stumped over to stand beside the half-elf. Goldmoon followed unhesitatingly, though her face was pale. Riverwind joined the group more slowly, his face thoughtful. Tanis was relieved-the barbarians had many frightening legends of Darken Wood, he knew. And finally, Raistlin moved forward so rapidly he took his brother completely by surprise.
Tanis regarded the mage with a slight smile. “Why do you come?” he couldn’t help asking.
“Because you will need me, Half-Elven,” the mage hissed. “Besides, where would you have us go? You have allowed us to be led this far-there can be no turning back. It is the Ogre’s Choice you offer us, Tanis-‘Die fast or die slow.’ ” He set off down the side of the Peak. “Coming, brother?”
The others glanced uneasily at Tanis as the brothers passed. The half-elf felt like a fool. Raistlin was right, of course. He’d let this go far beyond his control, then made it seem as if it were their decision, not his, allowing him to go forward with a clear conscience. Angrily he picked up a rock and hurled it far down the mountainside. Why was it his responsibility in the first place? Why had he gotten involved, when all he had wanted was to find Kitiara and tell her his mind was made up-he loved her and wanted her. He could accept her human frailties as he had learned to accept his own.
But Kit hadn’t come back to him. She had a “new lord.” Maybe that’s why he’d-
“Ho, Tanis!” The kender’s voice floated up to him.
“I’m coming,” he muttered.
The sun was just beginning to dip into the west when the companions reached the edge of the forest. Tanis figured they had at least three or four hours of daylight left. If the stag continued to lead them on smooth, clear trails, they might be able to get through this forest before darkness fell.
Sturm waited for them beneath the aspens, resting comfortably in the leafy, green shade. The companions left the meadow slowly, none of them in any hurry to enter the woods.