“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Tanis said slowly, walking over to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing out the tenseness he felt in the bunched muscles of her neck. “We can’t understand. We’ve just got to keep going and hope we find the answer in Xak Tsaroth.”
She nodded and wiped her eyes, drew a deep breath, and blew her nose on a handkerchief Tasslehoff handed her.
“You’re right,” she said, swallowing. “My father would be ashamed of me. I must remember-I am Chieftain’s Daughter.”
“No,” came Riverwind’s deep voice from where he stood behind her in the shadows of the trees. “You are Chieftain.”
Goldmoon gasped. She twisted to her feet to stare, wideeyed, at Riverwind. “Perhaps I am,” she faltered, “but it is meaningless. Our people are dead-”
“I saw tracks,” Riverwind answered. “Some managed to flee. They have probably gone into the mountains. They will return, and you will be their ruler.”
“Our people . . . still alive!” Goldmoon’s face became radiant.
“Not many. Maybe none now. It would depend on whether or not the draconians followed them into the mountains.” Riverwind shrugged. “Still, you are now their ruler”- bitterness crept into his voice-“and I will be husband of Chieftain.”
Goldmoon cringed, as though he had struck her. She blinked, then shook her head. “No, Riverwind,” she said softly. “I… we’ve talked-”
“Have we?” he interrupted. “I was thinking about it last night. I’ve been gone so many years. My thoughts were of you-as a woman. I did not realize-“He swallowed and then drew a deep breath. “I left Goldmoon. I returned to find Chieftain’s Daughter.”
“What choice did I have?” Goldmoon cried angrily. “My father wasn’t well. I had to rule or Loreman would have taken over the tribe. Do you know what’s it like-being Chieftain’s Daughter? Wondering at every meal if this morsel is the one with the poison? Struggling every day to find the money in the treasury to pay the soldiers so that foreman would have no excuse to take over! And all the time I must act as Chieftain’s Daughter, while my father sits and drools and mumbles.” Her voice choked with tears.
Riverwind listened, his face stern and unmoving. He stared at a point above her head. “We should get started,” he said coldly. “It’s nearly dawn.”
The companions had traveled only a few miles on the old, broken road when it dumped them, literally, into a swamp. They had noticed that the ground was getting spongier and the tall, sturdy trees of the mountain canyon forests dwindled. Strange, twisted trees rose up before them. A miasma blotted out the sun, and the air became foul to breathe. Raistlin began to cough and he covered his mouth with a handkerchief. They stayed on the broken stones of the old road, avoiding the dank, swampy ground next to it.
Flint was walking in front with Tasslehoff when suddenly the dwarf gave a great shout and disappeared into the muck. They could see only his head.
“Help! The dwarf!” Tas shouted, and the others ran up.
“It’s dragging me under!” Flint flailed about the black, oozing mud in panic.
“Hold still,” Riverwind cautioned. “You have fallen in deathmirk. Don’t go in after him!” he warned Sturm who had leaped forward. “You’ll both die. Get a branch.”
Caramon grabbed a young sapling, took a deep breath, grunted, and pulled. They could hear its roots snapping and creaking as the huge warrior dragged it out of the ground. Riverwind stretched out flat, extending the branch to the dwarf. Flint, nearly up to his nose in the slimy muck, thrashed about and finally grabbed hold of it. The warrior hauled the tree out of the deathmirk, the dwarf clinging to it.
“Tanis” The kender clutched at the half-elf and pointed. A snake, as big around as Caramon’s arm, slithered into the ooze right where the dwarf had been floundering.
“We can’t walk through this!” Tanis gestured at the swamp. “Maybe we should turn back.”
“No time,” Raistlin whispered, his hourglass eyes glittering.
“And there is no other way,” Riverwind said. His voice sounded strange. “And we can get through-I know a path.”
“What?” Tanis turned to him. “I thought you said-“