“One of our party is injured. We ask that you treat him. Give him an antidote to this poison dart.”
“Poison?” The draconian peered into the cage. “Ah, yes, the magic-user.” The creature gurgled deep in its throat, a sound obviously meant to be laughter. “Sick, is he? Yes, the poison acts swiftly. Can’t have a magic-user around. Even behind bars they’re deadly. But don’t worry. He won’t be lonely-the rest of you will be joining him soon enough. In fact, you should envy him. Your deaths will not be nearly so quick.”
The draconian turned its back and said something to its partner, jerking its clawed thumb in the direction of the cage. Both of them croaked their gurgling laughter. Tanis, feeling disgust and rage welling up deep inside of him, looked back at Raistlin.
The mage was rapidly growing worse. Goldmoon put her hand on Raistlin’s neck, feeling for the life beat, and then shook her head. Caramon made a moaning sound. Then his glance shifted to the two draconians, laughing and talking together outside.
“Stop-Caramon!” Tanis yelled, but it was too late.
With a roar like a wounded animal, the huge warrior leaped toward the draconians. Bamboo gave way before him, the shards splintering and cutting into his skin. Mad with the desire to kill, Caramon never noticed. Tanis jumped on his back as the warrior crashed past him, but Caramon shook him off as easily as a bear shakes off an annoying fly.
“Caramon, you fool-” Sturm grunted as he and Riverwind both threw themselves on the warrior. But Caramon’s rage carried him on.
Whirling, one draconian raised its sword, but Caramon sent the weapon flying. The creature hit the ground, knocked senseless by a blow from the big man’s fist. Within seconds, there were six draconians, bows and arrows in their hands, surrounding the warrior. Sturm and Riverwind wrestled Caramon to the ground. Sturm, sitting on him, shoved his face into the mud until he felt Caramon relax beneath him and heard him give a strangled sob.
At that instant, a high-pitched, shrill voice screeched through the camp. “Bring the warrior to me!” said the dragon.
Tanis felt the hair rise on his neck. The draconians lowered their weapons and turned to face the dragon, staring in astonishment and muttering among themselves. Riverwind and Sturm got to their feet. Caramon lay on the ground, choking with sobs. The draconian guards glanced at each other uneasily, while those standing near the dragon backed off hurriedly and formed an immense semicircle around it.
One of the creatures, whom Tanis supposed by the insignia on its armor to be some sort of captain, stalked up to a robed draconian who was staring, open-mouthed, at the black dragon.
“What’s going on?” the captain demanded. The draconian spoke in the Common Tongue. Tanis, listening closely, realized they were of different species-the robed draconians were apparently the magic-users and the priests. Presumably, the two could not communicate in their own languages. The military draconian was clearly upset.
“Where is that Bozak priest of yours? He must tell us what to do!”
“The higher of my order is not here.” The robed draconian quickly regained his composure. “One of them flew here and took him to confer with Lord Verminaard about the staff.”
“But the dragon never speaks when the priest is not here.”
The captain lowered his voice. “My boys don’t like it. You better do something quickly!”
“What is this delay?” The dragons voice shrieked like a wailing wind. “Bring me the warrior!”
“Do as the dragon says.” The robed draconian motioned quickly with a clawed hand. Several draconians rushed over, shoved Tanis and Riverwind and Sturm back into the shattered cage, and lifted the bleeding Caramon up by the arms. They dragged him over to stand before the dragon, his back to the blazing fire. Near him lay the blue crystal staff, Raistlin’s staff, their weapons, and their packs.
Caramon raised his head to confront the monster, his eyes blurred with tears and blood from the many cuts the bamboo had inflicted on his face. The dragon loomed above him, seen dimly through the smoke rising from the bonfire.
“We mete out justice swiftly and surely, human scum,” the dragon hissed. As it spoke, it beat its huge wings, fanning them slowly. The draconians gasped and began to back up, some stumbling over themselves as they hurried to get out of the monster’s way. Obviously they knew what was coming.