“Where are you taking us?” Tanis asked again.
“To the Forestmaster,” the centaur answered.
“The Forestmaster?” Tanis repeated. “Who is he-one like yourselves?”
“She is the Forestmaster,” the centaur replied and began to canter down the trail.
Tanis started to ask another question, but the centaur’s quickened pace jolted him, and he nearly bit through his tongue as he came down hard on the centaur’s back. Feeling himself start to slide backwards as the centaur trotted faster and faster, Tanis threw his arms around the centaur’s broad torso.
“Nar, thee doesn’t need to squeeze me in two!” The centaur glanced back, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. “It be my job to see thee stays on. Relax. Put thy hands on me rump to balance thyself. There, now. Grip with thy legs.”
The centaurs left the trail and plunged into the forest. The moonlight was immediately swallowed up by the dense trees. Tanis felt branches whip past, swiping at his clothing. The centaur never swerved or slowed in his gallop, however, and Tanis could only assume he knew the trail well, a trail the half-elf couldn’t see.
Soon the pace began to slacken and the centaur finally came to a stop. Tanis could see nothing in the smothering darkness.
He knew his companions were near only because he could hear Raistlin’s shallow breathing, Caramon’s jingling armor, and Flint’s unabated sneezing. Even the light from Raistlin’s staff had died.
“A powerful magic is laid on this forest,” the mage whispered weakly when Tanis asked him about it. “This magic dispels all others.”
Tanis’s uneasiness grew. “Why are we stopping?”
“Because thee art here. Dismount,” the centaur ordered gruffly.
“Where is here?” Tanis slid off the centaur’s broad back onto the ground. He stared around him but could see nothing. Apparently the trees kept even the smallest glimmer of moonlight or starlight from penetrating through to the trail.
“Thee stands in the center of Darken Wood,” the centaur replied. “And now I bid thee farewell-or fare evil, depending on how the Forestmaster judges thee.”
“Wait a minute!” Caramon called out angrily. “You can’t just leave us here in the middle of this forest, blind as newborn kittens-”
“Stop them!” Tanis ordered, reaching for his sword. But his weapon was gone. An explosive oath from Sturm indicated the knight had discovered the same thing.
The centaur chuckled. Tanis heard hooves beat into soft earth and tree branches rustled. The centaurs were gone.
“Good riddance!” Flint sneezed.
“Are we all here?” Tanis asked, reaching out his hand and feeling Sturm’s strong, reassuring grasp.
“I’m here,” piped Tasslehoff. “Oh, Tanis, wasn’t it wonderful? I-”
“Hush, Tas!” Tanis snapped. “The Plainsmen?”
“We’re here,” said Riverwind grimly. “Weaponless.”
“No one has a weapon?” Tanis asked. “Not that it would do us much good in this cursed blackness,” he amended bitterly.
“I have my staff,” Goldmoon’s low voice said softly.
“And a formidable weapon that is, daughter of Que-shu,” came a deep voice. “A weapon for good, intended to combat illness and injury and disease.” The unseen voice grew sad, “In these times it will also be used as a weapon against the evil creatures who seek to find and banish it from the world.”
11
The Forestmaster. A peaceful interlude.
Who are you?” Tanis called. “Show yourself!”
“We will not harm you,” bluffed Caramon.
“Of course you won’t.” Now the deep voice was amused. “You have no weapons. I will return them when the time is propitious. No one brings weapons into Darken Wood, not even a Knight of Solamnia. Do not fear, noble knight. I recognize your blade as ancient and most valuable! I will keep it safe. Forgive this apparent lack of trust, but even the great Huma laid the Dragonlance at my feet.”
“Huma!” Sturm gasped. “Who are you?”
“I am the Forestmaster.” Even as the deep voice spoke, the darkness parted. A gasp of awe, gentle as a spring wind, swept the company as they stared before them. Silver moonlight shone brightly on a high rock ledge. Standing on the ledge was a unicorn. She regarded them coolly, her intelligent eyes gleaming with infinite wisdom.
The unicorns beauty pierced the heart. Goldmoon felt swift tears spring to her eyes and she was forced to close them against the animal’s magnificent radiance. Her fur was the silver of moonlight, her horn was shining pearl, her mane like seafoam. The head might have been sculpted from glistening marble, but no human or even dwarven hand could capture the elegance and grace that lived in the fine lines of the powerful neck and muscular chest. The legs were strong but delicate, the hooves small and cloven like those of a goat. In later days, when Goldmoon walked dark paths and her heart was bleak with despair and hopelessness, she had only to shut her eyes and remember the unicorn to find comfort.